


Telephone

by OnlyStraightForJongup



Category: NU'EST, Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Friendship, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Love, Romance, Some other idols too, Wanna One Ensemble - Freeform, but definitely nuest focused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 79,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyStraightForJongup/pseuds/OnlyStraightForJongup
Summary: Jonghyun's well-versed in keeping his love for Minhyun secret, but the flowers growing in his lungs complicate matters. At least there's little chance of his secret making it to Minhyun while he's in Wanna One.





	1. Clethra alnifolia

**Author's Note:**

> "Hanahaki is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear." --Wikipedia
> 
> A quick note on the timeline: this is canon universe, but don't be surprised if some small things are different, just for plot/convenience reasons.

Jonghyun shivered in his seat, the cold air of the van’s AC striking his arm and inciting goose bumps. He tucked it against his chest and leaned his head resting the window. The glass vibrated it, and he winced as they hit a larger bump on the road.

A shoulder to rest on would’ve been great right then, but he was sitting in the middle row of their van, not in the far back. Dongho was straight across from him, and Minki and Aaron were in the far back, the seat between them left empty. 

Jonghyun’s heart sank with that thought, and he bumped his head against the window to force it away. This wasn’t the time. They were promoting Dejavu, and they had a good shot at winning with it. Nu’est W was the group risen from the ashes, not the one that lingered on the past.

(Even though their song was literally called Dejavu, and well, okay, that was really ironic.) 

Jonghyun huffed, faint amusement rising in him only to drip away as quickly as it came.

The mood was too somber, and they all knew it. Everyone was sleeping, as usual because promotions always meant grabbing any sleep they could get along the way, but soon they’d be hustled into pre-recording and preparations. They’d get little time to talk and would likely fill that with a V-Live anyway. 

Would a better leader have stepped in earlier? Would they have given some sort of pep talk, something to inspire? Jonghyun didn’t know, but he tried not to linger there either. If he’d learned anything in the past year or so, it was that mythical good leaders never did anything real. He was the one who had to change things if he wanted to change them.

Still, he wouldn’t say anything. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he didn’t have any helpful words and couldn’t take the look everyone would get if he brought it up. Jonghyun swallowed, and it pulled a slight cough out of him. 

A negligible one, really. Most wouldn’t even call it a cough, but it affected him all the same. Jonghyun’s lips trembled, and he had to press them together until they stung before they stopped. 

This was bad. It was really bad. 

He’d taken cough medicine earlier, spurred on by the others, who’d heard him coughing for a couple weeks now. Jonghyun had done everything he could to hide it, but even some of the fans had picked up on it. He’d had ‘get better soon’s sent to him all over social media. 

Normally he’d be touched by their well-wishing, but now—now, he didn’t know what to do, what to think, even. 

Secrets made things complicated. That was another thing he’d learned in the past year. Jonghyun sighed and closed his eyes again. He was so tired. His cough had forced him awake in the too few hours they were allowed to sleep, and he’d spent much of it coughing over the toilet.

Jonghyun had never spit up so many petals at once before, and it left him shaking and light-headed and gasping. Even when it all faded, when the petals sat in his lungs and flushed down the toilet, none in-between, he hadn’t slept.

He was missing his chance now too, and he’d regret that later. Jonghyun put his arm against the window and dropped his head on it. The car remained silent, and the air continued to blow. 

Minhyun would probably be singing right now, unless the constant performances stressed out his throat too badly. In that case, he’d be sipping tea and praying it would help. He always got fidgety before performances, exhausted to a stage where he couldn’t stop moving. 

His breath stung his throat, and when he swallowed, it only got worse. Jonghyun clenched his jaw. Their manager always hounded Minhyun and Dongho about their throats, as they were most at risk. Aaron and Minki also got his attention whenever they had more lines.

Jonghyun supposed he was lucky he had fewer this time around. The less additional irritation to his throat the better, really. The whole spitting-up-petals thing hadn’t happened nearly as often when they’d promoted Where You At, but his throat had still hurt more than usual. Jonghyun bet this time would be the same.

Not long after he found a comfortable position, the van stopped. With a flurry of activity and slowly blinking eyes, they all roused each other and got out, panting in the humidity of the summer. 

Pre-recording went by with ease, and Jonghyun smiled as he watched his members. He had never been all that hands-on about leading, but after six years, they all knew the process so well it would’ve been strange for him to even try to step in. 

They passed Blackpink on their way to their dressing room, and Jonghyun greeted them, but he knew better than to try and engage in any type of conversation. They were both hurried in opposite directions, and soon enough their manager led them into the dressing room. 

Jonghyun was on his phone, playing some game he hardly sees on the screen and doing as poorly as expected when Aaron dropped next to him. “Hey.” He gave him a fist bump. “You’ve been quiet.” 

“Really?” Jonghyun couldn’t keep the surprise from raising his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized.

“Mm. Seems like there’s something on your mind.” 

“Too much,” Jonghyun agreed. “But when isn’t there?” 

Aaron rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out myself.” 

As though to answer them, Minki let out a loud, offended squawk. Jonghyun turned around, but both he and Dongho were in the hallway. Aaron giggled, no doubt recognizing the irony of the timing as well as Jonghyun did. To add insult to injury, they could still hear Minki, clearly beginning to argue with Dongho about something.

Jonghyun could imagine Dongho’s exasperated look all too well. His lips twitched into a smile. He raised an eyebrow at Aaron. “We could go help, or—we could pretend we don’t hear anything?” 

Aaron shoved Jonghyun, but it was soft enough that it barely nudged him. “Says the leader.”

“You’re the oldest. You could take responsibility.” 

“I fulfill my duty by feeding all you.”

“You need to take on more.”

“I’m trying to have less on my mind.”

“By giving me more!” 

“Kim Jonghyun!” He jumped to his feet, patting Aaron’s knee as a goodbye as he hurried into his seat for his hair and makeup. He could hear the door open as Minki and Dongho were called back inside for the same. 

His stylist finished quickly, and Jonghyun thanked her before he ran off to change into his stage clothes. In the background, Aaron and Minki greeted the fans. They must’ve started a V-Live. Did that mean they still had a while until the performance? There were clocks around the room, but time always seemed wonky on days with big performances. It went fast and slow and never worked how it should to Jonghyun.

“JR!” Aaron called him, tilting the camera so the fans could see him. 

He waved. “I have to change,” he said. “But I’ll be over soon.” 

“Oh?” Minki’s voice took on a mischievous note, and he laughed. “The fans are saying you can do it now.”

He dropped his jaw and covered his face with his other hand, feeling it heat up. Jonghyun shook his head. “I’ll be over soon. Sorry!”

Minki gave him a thumbs up when the camera was flipped off him, and it only took a couple minutes to change into his stage outfit. He was the last to get dressed, though one of their stylists was still fiddling with Dongho’s hair. 

Jonghyun leaned over the back of the couch, wrapping his arms over Minki, who didn’t bother to look up. “Reading comments?” he guessed.

“Mm. The fans say you’re very cute, but you still can’t take selcas well.”

“You couldn’t have left it at the ‘very cute?’”

“I’m just being honest. Oh, and they also asked if you’re still sick.” 

Jonghyun winced, internally. “I’m all better now. Thank you for the messages!” If only his members would be so easy to placate, but he’d have to do a lot more to convince them he was no longer coughing. Especially considering he, you know, was still coughing.

The best option was falling out of love with whoever caused the flowers in his lungs. Jonghyun had literally no clue who it was—despite the quiet whispers in the back of his head because those definitely didn’t know what they were talking about.

Jonghyun loved a lot of people. It was his nature to feel strongly about the people closest to him, and his feelings towards them hadn’t changed when this happened (nearly a year ago, and oh gosh, time went quick and Jonghyun maybe-probably-definitely should’ve dealt with this long ago).

That meant it couldn’t be him, right? Jonghyun had loved him for a lot longer than a year…

A staff member interrupted his thoughts, calling out that they had ten minutes before they had to leave. Jonghyun smiled and joined Minki and Aaron in saying goodbye to the fans on V-Live. 

“We’ll see you soon!” he promised.

 

\--

 

He could’ve done better. Nothing went horribly wrong but it hadn’t gone horribly right either.

Jonghyun had hardly been able to breathe throughout it. The thought sent a tremor through him, and he bit the inside of his cheek to remind himself to calm the fuck down. They were on stage again, this time nominated to win.

He was mostly certain they wouldn’t. Jonghyun hadn’t seen Blackpink perform, but they’re good and consistent, and fuck, he must’ve looked so sloppy, out-of-breath and tired and definitely not making the choreography look as simple and effortless as he should’ve. 

It was only logical that the flowers obstructing his lungs would cause other problems than only coughing, but—they hadn’t. Until now. Or okay, he’d been able to easily ignore it until now. But today—Jonghyun could’ve done better. They’d held him back.

“Nu’est W!” So far into his thoughts, Jonghyun barely caught the announcement. He blinked, half-poised to smile and clap for Blackpink still. Instead, they’re thrusted in front, and their fans erupted into cheers. 

It was so loud. The award came from one side and a couple bouquets of flowers from the other. Jonghyun moved through syrup, only taking one of the bouquets when Dongho thrusted it into his hand.

Aaron held the award and—they won, they actually won. 

Fuck, Jonghyun had to speak, didn’t he? His hand shook, and he tightened it around the microphone, only to nearly drop the flowers in his hand. Was he even smiling? Jonghyun took a deep breath and started to speak.

“I didn’t think we were going to win this.” Being humble was always good, right? “I was just thinking how we could’ve improved more, and how I made mistakes. But thank you… Thank you to—” And he rattled off the list of ‘thank you’s, some heartfelt—LOVEs, and the staff that helped them—some slightly bitter—their CEO. 

Jonghyun listed the ‘thank you’s like he was used to saying them, as though the idea of them winning a music show two years ago hadn’t been laughable. At least he could fake it well.

Dongho shifted so their shoulders pressed together, and whoops, Jonghyun’s frazzled existence must’ve been obvious enough that he’d picked up on it. Hopefully the fans hadn’t. As he finished, Dongho raised his own microphone.

Jonghyun smiled as he spoke, talking about his dad and how much this meant to him. This was a good thing. Whether Jonghyun felt he deserved it or not, it was a good thing. His bandmates deserved it, after all. 

Listening to Dongho talk, Jonghyun managed his first deep breath since they’d gotten on stage. 

This was good. It was more than good. They’d won. 

As Dejavu played in the background, fan chants loud in their ears, they jumped talk to talk, thanking and celebrating and finally throwing Minki into the air.

This was good.

By the time it ended, Jonghyun’s cheeks stung from his smiles. The makeup came off, they changed into more comfortable clothes, but the smile remained on their faces.

It wasn’t until they were in the van that Jonghyun’s phone vibrated. The breath whooshed out of him when he saw Minhyun’s name on the screen, and a giddy disbelief rushed over him. 

He yelled for the others to be quiet and answered, immediately putting Minhyun on speaker.

“Hello?” 

“Congrats! I just saw you won!” The connection was rough, and voices echoed in the background. Minhyun must also be in a car. Still, even the garbled, distorted voice set Jonghyun’s heart pounding. Fuck, this was everything he needed to make tonight perfect. He couldn’t help but grin at his phone. 

Minhyun hadn’t had his phone during their last comeback; they’d all dealt with that whisper of betrayal in the back of their mind, the idea that maybe Minhyun would feel hurt by them winning without them.

“You did so well!” 

Jonghyun’s heart wanted to burst. They all chorused ‘thank you’s and cheering, and at least a few of the Wanna One members joined in too. Were they on speaker? Jonghyun kind of hoped not. He liked the others and even called a couple friends, but he just wanted Minhyun right now. 

Was that selfish? He didn’t care, not now. “Minhyun, how are you? You taking care of yourself?”

“I should be asking you that.” Minhyun laughed, and oh, Jonghyun had missed that sound, even if it wasn’t his annoying, high-pitched one. “You’re promoting, and I know what you think counts as a healthy diet.” 

“Aaron’s got us covered. We’re even keeping the dorm in one piece, if you must know.”

“Yeah, Jonghyun found out we hardly ever need to do dishes if we just eat on paper plates,” Minki said. “No mess at all.”

Jonghyun laughed at Minhyun’s gasp. “It’s a good strategy.”

“I heard you won a watch for me too. Better be keeping it safe.” Minhyun’s voice was teasing, and Jonghyun’s mind flashed to the watch, carefully placed in its protective box and on his nightstand.

Dongho snorted. “He’s probably lost it already.”

“I’ve never taken it out of the dorm! It can’t be lost.” It was a little embarrassing that he knew exactly where it was, wasn’t it?

“You’ll get back here and find it in the fridge or something,” Aaron said. 

“Shut up!” Despite Jonghyun’s false offense, happy tears burned in his eyes. He swallowed hard when his throat closed up. Fuck, he missed this. He missed Minhyun.

A voice in the background piped up, and Minhyun sighed. “I need to go soon,” he said. “But Jaehwan and the others want to congratulate you too.”

The background cheering started again, this time not drowned out by Minhyun’s. Jonghyun heard a couple calls of “Jonghyun hyung!” and the others’ names too. 

They mostly yelled back as actual phone conversations between two groups of people rarely tended to be possible. 

“We need to go,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun could hear his smile. Could Minhyun hear his too? He hoped so. “But I wanted to call as soon as I heard! Congrats and rest well! Eat something good for me.” 

“You too,” Jonghyun said. “All of you—get your rest and do well.” The tears streamed down his face, but Minki’s also teary-eyed, so Jonghyun couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed. Not in front of his members, at least. Hopefully the connection wasn’t clear enough for Minhyun to hear it in his voice.

With a final goodbye, Minhyun hung up, and Jonghyun tightened his grip on his phone. His heart raced in his chest, blood pounding through his body, and nothing could possibly get him down right now. 

Maybe later the memory would become hollow, would only make Jonghyun miss him worse, but for now, Jonghyun could only smile. 

Nothing could get him down tonight.

 

\--

 

Jonghyun loved a lot of people. He’s got love to spare, would take care of anyone who needed him. Or at least, that was what he said as he clicked the lock to the dorm bathroom, fingers fumbling around because his eyes can’t leave the multiple white clusters of flowers in his palm. It took him two tries to grab the doorknob.

They could mean anyone. He loved a lot of people. It didn’t matter what he was doing when he coughed, who he was thinking about. 

The flowers’ shape was rather generic anyway; he squinted to try and work out some details, but latent tears from his coughing blurred his vision. Jonghyun had hoped the full shape would answer questions the tiny petals hadn’t.

This was the first time he’d ever seen an entire bloom. Or really, this was his first time seeing an entire cluster of blooms. They were about ten centimeters long, and both had at least twenty small, white flowers on them, arranged on every side.

A couple more floated in the otherwise clean toilet, fallen before his hand reflexively shot out to catch them. He’d expected a small shower of tiny petals, not four complete flowers. Jonghyun peered at his hand. 

Did it really come from his lungs?

A faint tinge of pink touched the petals, and stamens poked out with proud pollen.

At least he didn’t have a pollen allergy, right? Right? Okay, no, bad joke. Jonghyun closed his fingers around the blooms and wrapped his arms around himself.

Trembles ran through his shoulders, but he ignored those. They were only a physical reaction to the coughing, after all.

It didn’t mean he was scared of the disease or how far it had progressed.

He’d known this day was coming for a long time.

Sweat dotted his forehead and wetted above his lip. His tongue darted out to rid it, and salt bloomed across his tongue. A shuddering breath racked his entire body. It pulled a single, weak cough out of him, and a tiny, tiny petal stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Jonghyun pressed his lips together. Stay in. Stay in. But the petal scraped down his throat when he swallowed. He coughed again.

The flowers were simple, unassuming, in contrast to their smell, which spread through the bathroom as though Jonghyun dumped perfume, not coughed himself hoarse.

It wasn’t…flowery. It was warm honey and root beer and sweet but not elegant? It wasn’t the type of scent he’d lean in carefully to sniff. 

The smell broke him. Jonghyun crushed the flowers in his hand—they were warm, still wet, and that was gross but hey, so was coughing them up—and pressed that hand against his head. His breath choked in his throat, caught before it left his lungs.

How many were growing in there, right now? How far had the plant developed? 

Jonghyun burned with questions and wilted without answers.

Except one. The only answer he didn’t want. 

The smell wouldn’t leave him. It hung in the air, almost too strong with the blooms held so close to his face. A small twitch of his fingers sent the blooms tumbling into the toilet. They plopped without so much as a noise, let alone a splash.

He flushed the toilet. The smell didn’t fade.

Jonghyun might not have known from the flower alone. He might’ve been able to pretend, just like he has for the past ten months.

He loved a lot of people, after all.

But there had never been a question of who it was, only the denial of the answer.

The smell forced his hand. It was cloying, clingy and with a deep-rooted sweetness to it. Hard to ignore and comforting and annoying all at once. 

Minhyun.

Even spoken purely in his thoughts, brought up from the whispers in the far back of his mind, the voice he had shut up for months made him whimper. Jonghyun sank to the ground, back sliding against a counter. His t-shirt caught on it and the cold tile against his bare skin left goosebumps rippling across his body.

“Dammit.” It came out as a hoarse whisper, but he repeated it louder, bashing his hand against the counter. The metal knob caught his palm, and he gasped. His fist clenched, and he cupped the other around it, held it to his chest and squeezed until the pain faded to manageable. His heartbeat pounded through his fingers.

He couldn’t let anyone know. It shouldn’t be hard—hell, Minhyun wasn’t even here; he was signed with Wanna One. 

What would he do if he found out? 

Jonghyun had no right to ruin Minhyun’s happiness.

Not when Minhyun had given up so much to get where he was. Dammit, he was out there being successful, and Jonghyun couldn’t ruin that for him. Jonghyun couldn’t make Minhyun even guiltier that he wasn’t with them, couldn’t take away his success from him.

What would he _do_ if he found out?  
Jonghyun didn’t want to know because he already did. The flowers in his lungs left no arguments; Minhyun didn’t love him like that.

The barest sting, faded and tired and nothing new, bounced around his chest as though his heart played pinball. Jonghyun had made his peace with Minhyun’s lack of romantic love towards him years ago. 

For some ungodly reason, his lungs hadn’t gotten that message, and instead they’d sprouted seeds, created flowers with a warm scent and tiny petals. 

He hadn’t yet controlled his breaths, and red marks from his nails marred his hands. Jonghyun pushed to his feet, and his head swooped. The corner of the sink saved him, and he flopped against it.

It was fine. This was fine.

He just wouldn’t tell anyone, and he’d get his head on fucking straight. What kind of leader was he, threatening their happiness like he was? They’d only just won, and here Jonghyun was, causing crises.

It’ll go away.

The same words he’d said for the past ten months. At first the petals came so rarely… He’d thought some miracle happened. His heart still squeezed every time he saw or thought about Minhyun, but surely he’d healed—

That changed with time. First once a week, then once a day, twice a day, three times—and now full flowers.

Had those dark bags under his eyes been there since morning? Or had they appeared with the flowers? 

He didn’t want to see them. Jonghyun dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, and Minhyun’s face flashed behind his eyelids. Talking with him had been so amazing, no matter how brief a conversation it had been.

His heart had clearly not been paying attention to the situation, because it beat harder when Jonghyun thought of him.

_Minhyun deserves everything without you ruining it, asshole._

Selfish, selfish asshole.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head hard enough to crack his neck. A knock interrupted him.

“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse. He cleared it.

“You okay?” It was Dongho. 

Jonghyun’s throat dried before he could manage a solid ‘I’m good.’ As it was, it took him three tries before he could answer. “Not feeling well, but I’m fine.”

Jonghyun could almost feel him soften. 

“You should get some sleep. We’ve got a long schedule tomorrow,” he said. “I can make you some tea for your throat, if you want.”

Of course they had another long schedule. For another week at least their lives would be suspended on stage, puppets moving on the mechanical strings they’d spent years building.

That sounded bitter. More bitter than he meant. Jonghyun loved being on stage; he was just tired.

Outside the bathroom, Dongho leaned against the wall. His frown deepened when Jonghyun opened the door. “Dude, you look awful.”

“Just need sleep,” Jonghyun said. “That’s all.”

“We all do.” Dongho rolled his eyes, and Jonghyun smiled at the grumpiness in his voice. There was a frantic excitement buried beneath it, the sense of frenzied nerves and frazzled happiness that pushed them all through exhaustion and into the life they live.

He was happy. They were all happy, and Jonghyun was too. There were flowers in the toilet—flowers in his lungs—but he was happy. 

A giddy rush made him laugh, some final reservoir of energy finding its way into him. “I still can’t believe we won,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Better believe it,” Dongho said. “We worked hard.”

Jonghyun hugged him, and it didn’t take much for Dongho to relax in his arms—part of Jonghyun appreciated that too, because it meant he wasn’t suspicious of him, even though he’d certainly heard his coughing.

The rest of him panged with guilt that he was manipulating his bandmates.

“Do you want tea?” he asked. 

Jonghyun shook his head. “I’m okay, thank you.” Dongho looked like he was about to sleep standing up. “Goodnight.”

Jonghyun dreamt of Minhyun, in a vague, confusing way. He recalled little except Minhyun’s face the next morning, but it left him groggy, still somehow caught up in it. He didn’t think anything happened but normal stuff—going to music shows together, throwing an arm over his shoulder on stage. 

That was the problem with him, really. When he thought of loving Minhyun, only some of his thoughts jumped to kisses and cuddling and things that made him flush. Most of them lingered on what they always did together but with new meaning.

_Minhyun’s hand brushed over his. His head dropped to Jonghyun’s shoulder. Jonghyun pressed against him, taking strength from him, able to breathe in his scent and his assurances and know that everything was going to be okay—_

Everything would be okay. That was all he wanted to know. 

It hadn’t been too bad until those feelings decided to screw him over.


	2. Full Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t mean that. Just—Hanahaki’s so unrealistic, isn’t it? Shows always make it all about the romance, when the Hanahaki means there can’t ever be romance at all.”
> 
> Jonghyun would know.

“Really though, what’s up with the perfume?” Minki walked into his room like he owned it—which he kinda technically did, considering it used to be his and would be his again once Minhyun returned. That didn’t mean Aaron and Dongho owned it too though, and they followed right behind.

Jonghyun raised his head from where he was sprawled on his stomach, napping with his head on his arms. His cheek hurt from how it had pressed against the corner of his 3DS. “What’s up?” His voice was hoarse, but he buried it under a small smile. 

Despite the couple weeks that had passed, he still wasn’t used to them commenting on the smell. Jonghyun had done everything he could think of to get it out of the room, but so far he’d failed rather horribly. Minki opened his window, and the breeze stirred his curtains. It was raining outside.

“We wanted to see what’s up with our favorite shut-in.”

“I’m not a shut-in.” Jonghyun’s voice wasn’t close to persuasive. “I was asleep.”

“It’s very worrying." Dongho didn't sound worried, mostly calm. “It’s been days since we’ve seen you.”

Jonghyun laughed. “We had practice together this morning!”

Aaron climbed up and draped himself over Jonghyun’s back, and he huffed, his breathing considerably more difficult. When he protested, Aaron only got heavier.

“We’re getting concerned. You haven’t reserved the TV once for some stupid show once this week.” Aaron’s voice came from close to his ear, his breath brushing Jonghyun’s hair. “Also, seriously man, Minki’s right. Toss the perfume.”

“Does it really smell that bad?” Jonghyun frowned. He honestly liked the scent, and should he defend it? It quite literally meant Minhyun to him, but well, jumping to its defense might be a little obvious.

Aaron gagged. “What you do—bathe in it?” 

Dongho joined them on the bed while Minki waved a dirty sweatshirt around like it would chase the smell away. 

“Stop it, you’ll make my room smell like laundry!” Jonghyun reached out, but he couldn’t get the leverage to grab it. 

“That’d be an improvement.” Minki’s voice was dark, a scowl on his face. “If it was anyone but you, I’d ask what you’re smoking in here and if it’s any good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re talking to me like I’m Minhyun or something!” His name slipped out without Jonghyun thinking, likely because he'd been all over Jonghyun's thoughts the past couple weeks, but he immediately regretted it as the mood dampened, chilled as though the air turned cold and the room dark. 

They didn't really talk about him. Not often, anyway.

Dongho revived it, speaking while Jonghyun still sputtered to find the right words. 

“Have you been buying flowers for someone and keeping it a secret?” He had a huge smile on his face. Aaron shifted so Dongho could lie down only to plop back. Jonghyun oofed and squirmed to get more comfortable.

“Yeah that’s me,” he said, ignoring the fear slipping down his spine and tightening his shoulders. “Sneaking in boatloads of flowers and getting them all out without any of you busybodies—” He cut off as Minki narrowed his eyes, clearly debating the best way to join them. He’d finished waving the scent away—which didn’t work, of course. Jonghyun groaned and raised his hands the best he could. “Not you too.”

“Please.” Minki spoke with his familiar, over-the-top tone and arrogant smirk. “You love me.” And with that, he jumped onto the bed and sprawled over all of them. They all let out groans, and Jonghyun struggled to escape. 

“I’m too young to die.” He groaned again when someone manages to shift more weight onto him. “Aaron’s supposed to go first.”

As expected, Aaron whacked his shoulder, and Jonghyun laughed, only to bury a cough into his comforter, not able to cover his mouth. The others didn’t seem to notice it.

“What? I’m just saying—you’re like an old man, and it’s only fair.”

Minki interrupted before Aaron could do more than splutter. “Really though, is that it? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jonghyun chuckled nervously. “Yeah, that’s me. Out there loving girls.”

Minki snorted. “Or a boyfriend. Or whoever. Just are you dating someone?” 

“I don’t know why you care so much about this smell—”

“I’m trying to save your love life, because seriously you need to burn whatever smells like that.”

“I like it!” 

“What is ‘it?’” Dongho asked. “Seriously, it’s even in my room.”

Minki shakes his head with mock dismay. “It’s in all of Seoul at this point.”

“My family can smell it from L.A.” 

Jonghyun tried again to shake them all off. “Shut up, it’s nowhere near that bad. And it’s from—flowers.” That wasn’t even a lie. They didn’t need to know where the flowers came from. 

“I hope you didn’t pay for those atrocities. Are they even pretty?” 

“Yes!”

“Where are they?”

Oh, fuck. “Uh,” Jonghyun said, quite intelligently. Then he stiffened. “Like I’d tell you! You’ll throw them out.”

Minki sighed. “Let us help you, before you ruin your love life. Because frankly, I’m amazed you have one at all.”

“Hey!” That hit the head of the issue a little too firmly, and Jonghyun winced but covered it as a pained reaction to the pile of bodies on top of him. At least Dongho had taken mercy and laid next to him, not on him, because otherwise, he might’ve actually died. “Lots of people want to date me.”

“That’s because they don’t know you that well.” Aaron still spoke from close to his ear. “Is that why you’re hiding all the time? Don’t tell me you’re trying to be mysterious because believe me, you can’t pull it off.”

“I’m just trying to exist.” 

“That’s a tall order—”

“Okay, really though.” Once again, Minki interrupted. “I want to know their name. Cause I was betting on us marrying.”

“…What?” Jonghyun ignored the cramp in his neck in favor of staring at Minki. “Please don’t tell me you’re confessing right now.”

Minki raised his eyebrows. “Hell no, I just figured no one would take you, and we did make that marriage pact—”

A laugh whooshed out of Jonghyun. “I can’t believe you remember that!” It had been both long ago and on an exceptionally drunk night. Jonghyun only had vague memories. 

“I’m not a lightweight. And of course. Still am, really. I can’t imagine this ending well if you’re giving them so many of those awful flowers.”

“He likes them too!” Okay, that was a lie, but there was no way Minhyun could hate the smell of the flowers he caused to grow in Jonghyun’s chest. And if he did, he could suck it up because—actually that wouldn’t be an issue since Jonghyun could never tell him. Right, reality, not fantasies. His heart made it clear what it thought of all that, sinking into his stomach. “And way to be supportive.” He pasted a smile back on his face. It only made the hollow in his chest stretch wider.

“He must really like you if he’s willing to lie like that.” Dongho’s words were unexpected and not appreciated. 

Jonghyun scowled. “I hate all of you.” Except Jonghyun really had become a bit of a shut-in recently, and he hadn’t realized how starved for touch he’d gotten. The weight on him couldn’t be called comfortable, and it burned his lungs in a way that would cause a coughing fit soon, but he didn’t mind.

His heart rose the smallest amount back towards the right place with (almost) all his members around him, caring for him. Jonghyun sucked in a deep breath. “I want a new group,” he lied. 

“We tried that already,” Dongho reminded him, and Jonghyun spared a millisecond to be happy that thought no longer carried as much of a sting as it once did. “Didn’t work so you’re stuck with us.”

“Pity.” Jonghyun hung his head as best he could when already pressed into his bed. He perked up with an idea, grinning. “Hey, since we’ve established I can’t get away, does that mean you’ll all get off me?” 

“Nope. We’re appreciating our leader.” Aaron reached down to pinch his cheeks, and Jonghyun snapped at him like a dog. 

Aaron smacked him in the nose.

“That hurt! I didn’t even bite you!” 

“You deserve it for putting us in a situation where what you just said makes sense.”

It took a while and more bickering—always more bickering—before they settled down. They shifted into more comfortable positions, and Jonghyun’s laugh bubbled out and took his worried with it, if only for a few minutes.

His members were great like that. Perfect, really. Everything he wanted.

If only his heart had understood that message without ruining everything.

But once again, it wasn’t the end. “We should watch a movie,” Aaron suggested. “Do something together tonight.”

Jonghyun had planned on playing Overwatch after his nap, but it was somewhat obvious they wouldn’t let him stay alone in his room, which was perhaps for the better. “Action movie?” 

“I still haven’t seen Jurassic World Two,” Dongho said. “I wish we could go out for it.”

They used to do that relatively often. It was a bonding activity they’d dropped because of necessity: they couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized these days, which was objectively good, but also sometimes Jonghyun caught himself missing that sort of obscurity. 

Rarely, though. Almost never. Only when he was selfish.

“I’ve been watching this drama—”

“Spare us,” Minki said. Aaron was by far the most likely of them to get into horrible dramas and then try to drag them all into watching it with him. 

“It’s good!” They scuffled above Jonghyun, who groaned and twisted until they slid more onto Dongho. Before Dongho could do more than yelp, Jonghyun took his chance to scramble off the bed. He nearly tripped over the sweatshirt Minki had waved around earlier.

“What’s it about?” Dongho’s voice was careful; they were all too aware he was the one normally dragged into watching episodes, or at least sitting on the couch while Aaron watched them. Jonghyun straight-up refused and retreated to his room more often than not, and Minki flopped between going teary-eyed over the worst of them and hating them as a whole with little notice.

Everyone made their way off the bed and towards the common area. Jonghyun yawned, and it spread to Aaron, interrupting him before he could begin describing the drama. 

They should get snacks, if they didn’t have any already. Had they bought any recently? Maybe Jonghyun had been more reclusive than normal, considering he had no idea what was in their kitchen. He was nearly into their kitchen area when Minki’s voice startled him.

“You want to watch something with a Hanahaki plot? Really?” 

“What?” Jonghyun asked, before he could stop himself. They didn’t spare him much attention, but his hand tightened around the siding of the doorway until his knuckles whitened. He was supposed to take another step forward, to look through their cupboard for whatever they had on hand, but his legs froze under him.

“It’s better than—"

“Let me guess,” Minki said. “Girl loves guy; guy doesn’t love her back. She can’t get the surgery because she just has to love him, and now she’s dying.”

Jonghyun’s hand cramped, but his legs trembled so badly he wasn't sure they'd support him alone.

Aaron shrugged. “That’s a part of it, yeah. I mean, that’s what Hanahaki is. But there’s some interesting subplots and other characters. It’s worth a watch.”

“I’d be fine with it. At least one episode.”

Minki sighed. “If this sucks I reserve the right to make fun of you for it for at least a week.”

“As if that’s anything new,” Aaron said. “Jonghyun?” 

He shook his head like the others weren’t sitting with their backs facing him, like he wasn’t still staring at the cupboard, which he still hadn’t opened to look for food. Nausea climbed up his throat, and he swallowed hard to force it down.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice came from closer. He must’ve stood up. Jonghyun could still hardly hear him over the sound of his own breathing. His heartbeat raced in his ears. 

“Yeah, sorry, what?” Jonghyun made an uncomfortable laugh. “What did you say?” He pried his fingers off the frame.

“Do you not feel well?” Aaron was frowning. “Maybe we should’ve just let you sleep—”

“Hyung, I’m fine.” Jonghyun attempted a smile. “I—don’t want to watch that though.” It took him tightening every muscle in his back to prevent a shudder. 

“Just the thought of a drama that bad made him sick,” Minki said. He had also come closer. “Or did we just not get your chips again?” His voice was a little too careful to come across as lighthearted as his words.

Jonghyun grimaced. “I don’t like Hanahaki plots.” 

“I’ve seen you reading them before.” Aaron’s hand started rubbing circles on his back, until Jonghyun untensed his shoulders.

“Those were—different.” That was a pathetic excuse, but he couldn’t really say those were from Before. When Hanahaki was only a rare disease media liked to latch onto and not an actual thing that could ever affect his life.

Jonghyun had known immediately what was happening when he first spat up a petal, but he’d thought it was some illusion. Hanahaki was such a rare disease that the Korean Center for Disease Control required doctors to report each case they diagnosed. Surely something like that couldn't happen to someone like him.

“He’s telling you your drama’s shit,” Minki said, laughing. “You can just say it outright, y’know.” 

“No!” Jonghyun’s face reddened, which was a stupid response, seriously. He’d lived with them for how many years? “I don’t mean that. Just—Hanahaki’s so unrealistic, isn’t it? Shows always make it all about the romance, when the Hanahaki means there can’t ever be romance at all.”

Jonghyun would know.

“And that’s what has you hiding in the kitchen?” He could almost hear how Minki’s eyebrows had risen. “You’re—upset over inaccuracy in media?”

Jonghyun scowled. “I’m not hiding.”

“You are,” Dongho said. “That’s not even the right cupboard.” He was right of course. Jonghyun had been staring at where they kept their plates, bowls, and cups.

“Does everyone need to be right here?” Jonghyun’s voice didn’t rise, but he was sure they’d picked up on his annoyance all the same. “Let me get snacks in peace.” 

“That may be hard considering we’re out of them.” Aaron’s voice was mild, and he steered Jonghyun away with the hand on his shoulder. Jonghyun saw no point in fighting, even when he nearly stumbled. “I planned on getting some tomorrow.”

Jonghyun wished he had a response. Anything. “Sorry—I’m just. Tired. I guess.” So very, very tired.

“You’re still sick,” Aaron reminded him like he'd forgotten. “Have you been taking medicine?”

Jonghyun shook his head. “It’s almost gone,” he said. “There’s really no reason—” Medicine couldn't help him. 

“I’ll make you some tea,” Aaron said. “You relax.” He locked eyes with Minki and Dongho. “You two choose something to watch.”

Any other night that would be just asking for a new argument, just for the sake of an argument, but they settled quickly on some old action movie. Jonghyun sank into the cushions and sighed, letting the familiar rustling of his friends comfort him.

When he opened his eyes again, Minki had flopped over the top of the couch like a cat. His hand dangled down, a little too close to Jonghyun’s face. 

“You’re gonna fall,” Jonghyun said, shifting to sit up the rest of the way. 

“I’ll be fine." Minki waved a dismissive hand and nearly toppled off. 

Aaron pressed a steaming mug of tea into Jonghyun's hands once he'd shifted out of the danger zone if Minki slipped. “Thanks, hyung.” 

They made it ten minutes before Minki’s leg smacked Dongho in the back of the head.

.

\--

.

He'd planned on sleeping a lot, but his earlier nap had caught up with him. After spending an hour tossing and turning in bed, watching the clock tick past four in the morning, he'd given up and moved to the common area. Without the others around, their earlier conversations flooded through his head. 

A drama with a Hanahaki plot, of all things. He shouldn't be that surprised really--they're relatively common--but the timing was ironic, if not straight-up humorous. 

At least it meant no one was onto his secret; he'd done a good job hiding it. If only that thought didn't hurt, then Jonghyun would be able to celebrate more. 

Besides, Jonghyun was lucky, really. Whatever flowers were growing inside of him had such small petals that there wasn’t any dramatic choking to get them from his throat. It was only when the full flowers came out that he had a problem.

Otherwise, his breath was a little short, and his throat worked constantly like he’d swallowed a hair, but it wasn’t the worst life. How could it be, considering how well everything was going?

The biggest downfall was his difficulty hiding it, and he'd done well with that, despite how his coughing had only grown more frequent. 

As the high of their win fell into the dull of ordinary life, they’d found an easy balance, the same as always. They'd needed the rest so badly; as with every comeback, Jonghyun had near forgotten what his friends looked like without dark bags under their eyes.

The downside was the extra coughing, but it wasn’t that the disease had gotten worse; he just struggled to push his thoughts of Minhyun away without the aid of constant exhaustion.

Of course Jonghyun missed Minhyun on stage—being there as four was like going on with only one leg—but the lulls were even worse.

When they were rushing back and forth, back and forth, Jonghyun was aware of Minhyun’s absence because he was constantly aware of the others.

But now, now he could forget for a second. Somehow, despite how long it had been, he still had those seconds where he could hear Minhyun’s voice coming from the dorm. Jonghyun had thought more than once that he heard Minhyun yelling over whatever mess they made in the common area.

He was chasing a ghost, and he was willing to follow him anywhere.

This, Jonghyun understood, was not a good development if he wanted the disease to fade. 

As if on cue, his musing was interrupted by a tickle in his throat, followed quickly by a gag. He cupped a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting left and right, left and right. Jonghyun was on the couch in the common area; he should go to the bathroom.

Except—it was too early for anyone to be awake yet. He’d given up on sleep almost a half hour ago and long before a decent waking hour. His notebook rested on his legs, his pencil clutched in his hand. He’d meant to write lyrics, and maybe he still could if he just ignored the coughing, if he didn’t make it a big deal.

Fuck it. 

Jonghyun stayed where he was, the coughs racking his body and leaving a tremble to shake its way through him. What if this time he was just getting sick? He was almost due to get a cold; he had always been one of the most vulnerable to illness after a comeback.

Jonghyun couldn’t breathe. His lungs were tight, and his head swam with this vortex of how stupid he was being, doing this where anyone could see, _honestly—_

But he was tired. Jonghyun was so fucking tired, and his vision was all spotty, and he wasn’t positive he could even make it to the bathroom.

As he stared at the flower in his palm, he maybe admitted that not everything was as okay as he would like to think.

That was when he started to cry. 

“It didn’t hurt that much, you big baby.” His voice shook, even though he only mumbled the words. He wiped the tears off his face. Why was it so important that he didn’t tell anyone? They’d want to help him. Jonghyun knew his friends.

Minhyun would be fucking pissed to find out he was doing this.

He’d want him to get the surgery, to clip the plant at its roots because no matter how much Minhyun cared about him, he didn’t love him like that.

Jonghyun was self-aware enough that he also knew surgery was his best option.

The short burst of tears had faded. Jonghyun had never been a big crier anyway; it didn’t make him feel better. 

The problem was—the root of it, if he wanted to play with metaphors—was that he couldn’t be selfish. 

Long, long ago, he’d naively accepted the role of leader. Ever since, he’d learned how serious it was and how much he’d sacrifice for it. This was one of those times. 

Jonghyun loved all his members, loved all of Nu’est, and just because his love for Minhyun was a little more…romantic than his love for the others, that didn’t mean he could get rid of it.

He couldn’t get rid of Minhyun. Not now. He might as well have given Minhyun a few of his organs before he’d left, considering how impossible it was to accept his absence. That was how it should be, because there was no Nu’est without him. They were waiting for him to return.

But if Jonghyun didn’t love Minhyun, what would happen? Goosebumps rose on his arms, and he wrapped them around his knees, tucked his body into a tight ball. If worst came to worst, and he got the surgery, would he accept a four-member Nu’est? Would he still care or would his indifference tear them all apart?

Jonghyun had a duty as the leader. He owed his members so much—he had already nearly ruined things for them once—and if part of that meant dealing with the occasional flower, then so be it.

It wasn’t a big deal anyway; they were only some small petals. 

The honey-scent rose around him, stuck in his throat and strong with every breath. Hours later, Jonghyun wouldn't manage a smile when Minki fake-gagged and told him that somehow the smell had gotten even stronger.

His notebook remained blank, despite the storm in his head.

.

\--

.

It was strange, really, how awkward Jonghyun still could feel in suits considering how often he wore them. Most of the time he didn’t notice, but every once in a while, he still felt like a child playing adult, wrapped in too much material. 

Or maybe that was more his current situation. Jonghyun and Dongho sat next to each other, surrounded by five—no, six, another woman had just sat down—others in a small conference room. The dark wood table spanned near half the room, and an untouched whiteboard stretched across one wall. Jonghyun smiled and ignored how tight it felt across his face.

These meetings were normal; they did them after every comeback. It was a reflection on what they’d done, how they’d performed, and the start of planning their next move.

They weren’t as scary anymore, if the smile on the officials’ faces was anything to go by, but that didn’t mean Jonghyun enjoyed them.

At least this time there were some truly familiar faces. He’d met all the marketing officials before, of course, but they didn’t know each other well, on different planes, so to say. Dongho’s presence was comforting, and Bumzu was also in the meeting. They had to be discussing when they’d release new music. 

Jonghyun had a few papers in front of him and messed with them so they sat in a perfect pile. He had a few ideas for activities before their next comeback, which he imagined would be in 2019—early 2019, hopefully. 

Before he said anything, however, he had to listen. They might be invited to these meetings, but they only had a small say in the final decisions.

“Congratulations on your win, Jonghyun-ssi,” one of their marketing officials, a relatively young, though older than them, woman with short, dark hair said. The formalities always stiffened him up, but he ignored that and thanked her. “With how successful Nu’est W has been, we want to do another comeback in the fall.”

Jonghyun buried his surprise, only letting his eyebrows rise slightly. “When?” Fall wasn't that far away; he couldn't imagine them ramping up for another comeback that soon.

“We don’t want it to compete for attention with end-of-year shows, so not too late. Likely the end of October or beginning of November.”

Jonghyun processed and nodded. Another comeback in only three to four months; that was a change. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “We’ll still have time to attend other programs too.” Assuming Pledis scheduled them for any, but he thought there was a good chance of that.

Jonghyun shot a quick look at Dongho, who had a small smile on his face. That explained why they’d asked for him to come too. The last time Jonghyun had met with them, the Pledis officials had told him they’d let them know when exactly the comeback would happen later and had him relay a message that they would be having one at all to the others. 

Was this what it meant to be successful? Jonghyun hoped so. Perhaps it was a mirage, but with each successful comeback, he felt more respected by their label, no longer the company’s failure. 

The woman--Jonghyun was feeling worse and worse over not remembering her name, but he rarely spoke with her--asked Dongho and Bumzu if they could work with those deadlines, and Dongho smiled. “Definitely."

Jonghyun let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, but it set off the tickle in his throat. He faced away and coughed into his hand. Only one cough, and that was that. He'd call that a good omen.

"We'll get exact deadlines to you within the next couple days."

He’d have to start thinking about lyrics, but he already had a few pieces of raps scattered throughout a couple notebooks, despite his recent writer's block. With any luck, they’d be ready for a fall comeback without too much last-minute panic and would put out something they were proud of. If everything followed the same trends, they would likely have more say in the concept than ever before.

“We’ve got some variety appearances already scheduled.” The woman flipped through a few papers. “Currently the only big one is Knowing Brothers in September, but also some smaller activities and photo shoots. We hope to schedule Weekly Idol near the comeback.”

Jonghyun was slightly starstruck, but he kept it buried. It wouldn’t do to act unprofessionally at a meeting. Still, his heart pounded in his chest, and for once it was a happy pounding, excitement not anxiety. 

This would be a good ending for Nu’est W, and it would lead them into a new beginning. 

Jonghyun couldn’t keep a smile off his lips. “Lee Soogeun told me he should find out soon if Night Goblin will air another season and invited me to MC again if it does.”

One of the men wrote that down into his notebook. The woman nodded. She looked more pleased with him than Jonghyun had ever seen her.

The meeting continued, twisting to focus more on their upcoming music and deadlines, and Jonghyun let Dongho and Bumzu take control of the conversation. He leaned back in his seat, a smile still playing across his lips. 

They had a lot to prepare for and a lot to look forward to. Jonghyun couldn’t wait. 

Not long after the meeting, he excused himself to the bathroom and set off the hand dryer to hide the sound of his coughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably super clear that I'm flying blind regarding Pledis, but in case it isn't, just a warning that I absolutely am. Also I know that Jonghyun's already been on Knowing Bros a couple times, but it fits best for this.
> 
> Comments and kudos make my day ^^ thank you!


	3. Camouflage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t tell him.” Jonghyun’s eyes were desperate, despite his calm tone. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning that this one's pretty heavy

Jonghyun panted, leaning against the mirror despite how it had already warmed to the temperature of his skin and no longer felt good against his skin. His members were in no better shape. Minki and Aaron had dropped to the floor, and Dongho had slipped from the room with all their water bottles. 

“One more time?” Jonghyun tried. He predicted the answer, but he wasn’t ready to give up on dancing yet for the day. 

Aaron groaned. “Do we need it?”

Not desperately. They’d spent the whole morning and half the afternoon running through old dances and sharpening their memories. There wasn’t anything new to learn yet. “Can’t hurt,” Jonghyun said, which wasn’t a lie.

Minki grabbed Aaron's hand when he tried to shift away. “I disagree. I hurt a lot.” 

Aaron snorted and pulled away. His knees cracked as he stood, but he only gave them a mournful look—a sign of actual pain, coming from him. If it truly wasn’t bad, he’d be complaining more. 

Jonghyun bit his lip. “Is this too much?” he asked, his own resolve faltering. “If you think—”

“No, no.” Aaron waved him off. “Don’t worry about me. You’re right—we’ve gotten a little sloppy.” 

Relief flooded through Jonghyun, and he basked in it, closing out the world for just a couple seconds. His whole body ached from the grueling practice, but he also thrummed with energy.

He’d forgotten how much dance could calm him down. It was an entirely different comfort than writing, and one he hadn’t taken advantage of recently. There was something about blasting music, switching his mind off, and going through dances embedded deep into his muscle memory that quieted everything. 

“You’re the problem child, anyway. How are you?” Aaron joined him against the mirror, right as Dongho returned with all their newly filled water bottles. He tossed Aaron’s at him, and it smacked him in the thigh. Aaron flinched. “Really?” 

Dongho’s mouth dropped, shock becoming amusement as a small laugh escaped him. “Sorry, hyung.” His smile belied the apology. 

Jonghyun’s shoulders shook as he buried his own giggles. He grabbed Aaron’s bottle before it could roll into Minki and opened it to take a sip, even though his own was only a meter or two away, still in Dongho’s hands. 

“Hey, you’re sick! Don’t go spreading anything to me.” Aaron swiped it from his hands. “Honestly,” he grumbled, thinning his lips in mock-annoyance. "Sometimes I think you all haven't matured a day since I met you."

Jonghyun laughed “You're the one who told me I should relax and not take on so much all the time.” He'd appreciated it when Aaron had pulled him aside, worried about him now that he got invited onto so many different shows. Aaron had told him to take advantage of them, but also to let himself live and rest too.

“Ah yes, the only time you’ve ever listened to me.” Aaron shoved him with his shoulder, his other hand wrapping around his waist to keep him from off-balancing. Jonghyun pressed his lips together to suppress his smile, but he knew his eyes betrayed him anyway. 

“Jonghyun.” Dongho waved his water and mimed tossing it to him, but Jonghyun demurred him with a raised hand and walked over to get it instead.

“I think this is easier for everyone,” he said.

“Definitely less fun though.” Minki had rolled into a sitting position and finally hopped to his feet. Despite the sweat sticking in his hair, he moved with enviable free energy, as though his limbs didn’t ache at all. “We should start again if we want to do any more. We’ve got vocal practice after this.” 

He was right. Jonghyun deflated with the reminder that dance practice was coming to an end after all. While he didn’t have any vocal training, the others did. Jonghyun didn’t have anything in particular scheduled, but he could certainly find something important that needed to be done easily enough. 

(Probably writing, because he still hadn’t managed a single word in the past couple weeks, and well, the deadlines weren’t too close yet, but they were coming.)

Jonghyun let his eyes shut again, stretching for the respite he’d found previously. His heart didn’t pound, but it beat hard enough for him to notice, leaving a slight shortness to his breath that didn’t come from exertion. That had disappeared while he danced, and Jonghyun wasn't ready to deal with it again.

“What song?” Minki raised an eyebrow at him. They’d been all over the place that morning, doing most of the songs they’d performed recently and would perform again. Jonghyun pursed his lips. Their next large performance was Kcon LA, and their line-up for that was all their most recent title songs, the songs the widest variety of people would know.

“Where You At?” he suggested. “Or maybe Dejavu again?”

“Not those.” Dongho groaned. “We’ve done them so much they're all I do in my dreams too.”

Jonghyun smiled. “Then what? And don’t say Hello—we all stand still for like a quarter of it and it looks dumb without the others.” Backup dancers always seemed to make them look cooler, really. Jonghyun wasn’t exactly sure how that magic worked, but he appreciated it a lot

“Good Bye Bye?” Minki suggested. “That stupid jump always gets me.” 

Jonghyun’s heart sank. It was a valid point, and they hadn’t beat that one to the ground like a lot of their others. But that was for a reason—Jonghyun had been avoiding it, if only for the fact that it was hard to remember it without also remembering countless jokes about Minki coughing up flowers.

At the time, they’d all had a good laugh, and Jonghyun was glad for their innocence, looking back. A Hanahaki concept had been relatively controversial, and they had only vaguely imagined the attention it would get.

Not too much, of course, considering they were the ones who’d made it. But it did get some whispers of being inappropriate, fans bringing up an old Hanahaki scandal that damn near tore a huge group apart and calling Nu’est disrespectful for using such a concept in a music video. 

It had all faded away with little intervention; after all, dating also caused scandals, but no one was about to say groups shouldn’t do romantic concepts. 

Jonghyun was sure the others rarely, if ever, thought back to that. Hell, he hadn’t remembered it until an unfortunate joke he’d made—one about if Minki caught the disease because he’d fallen in love with one of his bandmates—popped into his head as he choked on petals. 

That made it awkward. The whole song was…awkward. 

“—planning on joining?” 

Jonghyun blinked back into the present, seeing how the others had all gotten ready to start, only Dongho out of place as he messed with their stereo.

“Oh, uh—” Jonghyun left it at that, hurrying over to his spot. It was just a dance, and one he enjoyed. The concept didn’t matter; they didn’t even reference it in the live performance. 

His heartbeat still raced, and he counted his breaths. Eight seconds in, eight seconds out. Three breaths later, the song started. 

Jonghyun let himself dance, and the memories faded away with little trouble. He found himself smiling midway through. 

It ended all too soon, his heart pounding and his breath short, but this time in a way that kept him calm and relaxed. 

“I still hate that jump,” Minki said. “It’s the worst.” 

“I like it,” Jonghyun said. He couldn’t keep a smile from his face.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’re good at it.” Even as Minki spoke, he started gathering his stuff, likely heading off to take a quick shower before vocal practice. Dongho and Aaron would no doubt follow.

Jonghyun should too, except did he really have to? He didn’t have anything scheduled, and even if he should write, he somewhat doubted he would. 

This was a good way to calm down, a healthy way. Maybe he should just stay. It had been much too long since he’d danced, and he hadn’t even coughed all that much today. 

Jonghyun still trusted the Hanahaki would fade. It was a temporary thing until he got everything straight again, and clearly, dancing helped him. 

“You coming?” Aaron had held the door for him. Jonghyun looked down at his bag, still on the floor. 

“I’m going to stay,” he decided. “Just for a little longer.”

His answer didn’t faze Aaron. “Just be back by five. Minhyun promised to call, remember?”

Jonghyun’s heart seized in his chest. Right. He’d forgotten about that. They’d been trying to do weekly calls, but in reality, they were sporadic at best considering their schedules. Everyone had been looking forward to today. Jonghyun mentally smacked himself for not remembering it. 

“Of course,” he said quickly, hoping Aaron wouldn’t notice his mortification. With his sweaty, already red face, it shouldn’t have been too noticeable, but Aaron knew him well.

Sure enough, he lingered for another few seconds, but in the end, only said, “don’t forget.” Then the door shut with a solid click, and Jonghyun released a shaky breath. 

They’d get to talk to Minhyun today. Butterflies flopped in Jonghyun’s stomach, and a tight smile pulled across his lips. His heart had started up again, motoring along like some machine.

That would be the perfect way to end a good day, right? Except the butterflies weren’t happy and floaty, more like, swirling and possibly trapped in a hurricane. Jonghyun kind of thought he was about to puke.

Spurned on by thought alone, saliva pooled in his mouth, and he screwed his face into a grimace, shaking his head to chase away the thoughts.

He should be fucking thrilled to speak to Minhyun. It had been at least three weeks since the last time. Besides, he’d literally just noticed how the Hanahaki had to be fading, had to no longer be a huge problem. He’d danced all morning and even if he wasn’t one-hundred percent, he hadn’t done badly. 

(Okay, so maybe he had taken a couple coughing breaks, and normally Dongho would’ve told them all to get their own water. It was highly likely he refilled them all just to ensure Jonghyun drank more.)

Still, those were minor. Jonghyun was doing better. 

Talking to Minhyun that night would be fun, no matter what the butterflies tried to tell him.

For now, he would focus on dancing and clearing his mind, and hopefully by the time he had to leave, talking to Minhyun would only hold happiness for him. All Jonghyun had to do was convince his body that there was nothing wrong with Minhyun, that he should love Minhyun, and that it was certainly nothing to be so dramatic about.

Jonghyun started dancing, starting with Nu’est’s choreography, but gradually starting to freestyle more and more, until he was smiling and laughing and fooling around because no one else was watching. 

He was midway through a song, the room filled with pounding bass and a dance weirder and freer than anything he’d be comfortable doing on stage (barring that one time in that one music video they didn't speak about), when his chest tightened. With a small frown, he tried to ignore it, but the coughs broke through anyway. 

Jonghyun covered his mouth, catching a small handful of petals. Luckily no full flowers came out, but even when the petals stopped, he couldn’t. His lungs burned, air scraping down his throat. He pressed a hand hard against his chest, tightening it to a fist when the room began to spin. 

His coughs, dry and harsh, nearly drowned out the music, except that might’ve also been the blood in his ears. He sank to the ground, crumpled petals falling to the floor as they slipped from his fist. 

Tears blurred his vision, his lungs pushing for more and more air that he couldn’t provide. His entire body trembled, racked by the force of his choking.

Except he wasn’t choking on petals; he was choking on nothing but air. 

The fit left Jonghyun shivering on the ground, tears streaking down his cheeks, and his heart beat fast and shallow.

He shook his head. Nothing. It was nothing. He’d probably swallowed—dust, or something like that. There was no way a few flowers in his lungs could cause a reaction like that. Every time he coughed, it was because of petals and flowers caught in his throat. It wasn’t coughing; it was choking, to be technical about it.

This had been different, some sort of fluke, no doubt. He’d danced all day and nothing had happened.

Jonghyun took a small sip of water, experienced enough to know that guzzling it would only make him sick. He waited until the trembling died down to collect the petals.

Heart in his throat once more, he took a couple deep breaths, counting seconds. This didn’t change anything. 

When his breathing evened, he started dancing again, not caring about the newfound desperation in it. No one was there to comment anyway. 

 

\--

 

“Minhyun, we’re leaving in five minutes.” Seongwoo normally didn’t worry about Minhyun, of all people, losing track of time, but he was still in their hotel room, sitting in a chair in the corner. The off-white walls had cracks in them, and the armchair looked more comfortable than it actually was. This time around the company certainly hadn’t gone out of their way for quality, and Seongwoo was excited to leave.

Minhyun looked up at his voice and pulled a headphone out. “What?” 

“We’re leaving like, now. You ready?” Seongwoo already knew the answer was no—it wouldn’t take long for Minhyun to finish packing, but his bag was still unzipped on his bed. 

“Oh—uh—” He looked down at his phone, then back at his bed. “I’ll be ready in a minute.” He put his headphone back in. “I need to go,” he said. “Yeah, I’m sorry—I thought I’d have a little longer.” 

Seongwoo held back a grimace at the dejected tone of his voice. He wasn’t someone who could fix it; there was no point in commenting on it.

“You’re right,” Minhyun said, sounding marginally more like himself. “Anything’s better than nothing. I’ll talk to you later. Tell Jonghyun…never mind. Yeah, no. It’s fine. I’ll talk to you again—sometime. Soon. Bye.” 

Seongwoo avoided Minhyun’s eyes after he hung up. Even with only half the conversation, Seongwoo could guess it had been an awkward goodbye. “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” Minhyun brushed past him, transferring another packed smaller bag into his large one and zipping it. 

“Sure you are.” Seongwoo followed him out. His own bags were already in the lobby. He glanced into the bathroom and frowned at the couple of products still on the counter. “Hey, I think you forgot something.” 

Minhyun turned, and the surprised rise of his eyebrows became a resigned, tired nod. “Sorry, just give me a minute.”

“Of course.” Seongwoo kept his voice soft. He couldn’t say he understood exactly what Minhyun was going through, but he got the gist of it. Even if he didn’t have bandmates he’d left behind when he joined Wanna One, he did have friends and family. 

In some ways, it was different. In others, not so much. 

Minhyun stuffed the things into his bag, clearly not caring where they ended up in it. Seongwoo couldn’t watch it. 

“It’s gonna suck when you can’t find anything in there,” he said, which probably wasn’t the best thing, but well, it was all he could do. Minhyun didn’t answer anyway.

With a grimace, Seongwoo walked after him down the hallway. “Really though, what’s got you down? You can talk to me.”

“There’s nothing,” Minhyun said. “I just missed Jonghyun. I was hoping to talk to him.”

“You could call him from the van. ” They were on their way to the airport, about to take an overnight flight to their next concert location, but they had a decent drive there first. “No one would mind.”

“Maybe,” Minhyun said. “They didn’t really know why he wasn’t there in the first place.”

Seongwoo hummed, wishing he had something good and comforting to say. Sharp comments and easy laughs were more his style, but while he probably could make Minhyun laugh, he’d only bury whatever was bothering him further and make it worse.

“I shouldn’t be this worried,” Minhyun said. “We’re all busy.”

“He’s your friend. It’s normal.”

Minhyun grimaced. “I haven’t seen him in months.”

“So? None of us have seen our family for even longer. That doesn’t mean we don’t think about them.”

Minhyun blinked at him.

Seongwoo grinned at the silence. “That was good, wasn’t it? Point for me.”

“You’re kidding, right?” 

“What? I rarely get to out-logic you. It’s a notable thing.”

“At least you’re admitting that you’re illogical.” Minhyun smiled, and while it was still strained, it was better. A bit better. At least, Seongwoo thought so. 

“I’m the good kind of insane. You’re just boring.” 

“If you say so,” he said. 

“But really, just call Jonghyun from the car. Worst case is he forgot, and then a call from you’ll make his day.”

Minhyun’s smile softened, and he looked at his phone, still in his hand. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Another score for me.”

Minhyun’s answering laugh was enough to make it feel like a win, but three hours later, when they prepared to board and Jonghyun not only hadn’t answered the call but also hadn’t even texted back, Seongwoo wasn’t prepared to say the same.

Instead, he accepted defeat and slid back.

Jaehwan stepped in to cheer Minhyun up, but there was no mistaking the tightness to his face. It was an expression they had all seen before, one that they'd accepted as normal for Minhyun, before realizing it showed himself at particularly anxious times. As it did for most people, stress left its big ugly mark on Minhyun, the kind of thing only the people closest to him could ever notice.

The fans in the airport were all smiles and the clicking of camera shutters. They didn’t seem to notice how Minhyun’s hand clutched his bag like someone had threatened to steal it.

 

\--

 

There wasn’t anything strange about how Hyunbin reacted to seeing him. Really, if anything was odd about the situation, it was that Jonghyun hadn’t predicted it until it was happening.

They’d spotted each other somewhere random. Nu'est W had a photoshoot, and it turned out Hyunbin had one as well in the same building. Jonghyun had a vague second to blink a few times and try to determine if he'd slept so little he was hallucinating, but then Hyunbin all but sprinted over and tackled him, yanking him into a tight hug. 

“Jonghyun hyung!” His voice was every bit as excited and deep as Jonghyun remembered, and despite his initial freeze, a smile curled over his lips and he patted Hyunbin’s back. 

“Give me a warning next time, will you?” he chided, but it was clear from Hyunbin’s hummed answer that he understood how pointless the rebuke was. 

Hyunbin only squeezed him harder. “Hey, hey!” Jonghyun laughed again. “Careful, you’ll kill me.” Except it was nice. Hyunbin smelled like some type of cologne—a little stronger than anything Jonghyun would wear, but it certainly wasn’t bad—and his embrace was comfortable and warm. 

He gave in and closed his eyes, dropping his head onto Hyunbin’s shoulder. A deep breath against his shirt started a tickle in his throat, and Jonghyun cleared it to rid himself of it. They were in public; he couldn’t cough. He pulled away, except Hyunbin hadn’t finished hugging him. 

Jonghyun struggled, covering his mouth with one hand once it became clear he wouldn’t totally bury the coughs. “Hyun—” A cough interrupted him, and Hyunbin immediately let go.

“Are you okay?” He blinked in that endearing, slightly confused way of his. “Hyung?” 

Jonghyun had his palm all but shoved against his mouth, but the coughs still escaped. No flowers yet; this was like the other day all over again.

You know, that day he never went back to the dorm and had ignored all Minhyun’s calls.

Jonghyun still hadn’t apologized over that, but this wasn’t the time to think about it, not when his coughs were only growing louder. Hyunbin repeated his name as though it was all he knew, his hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. 

Jonghyun’s vision went blurry, but he caught sight of a shadow—a person, some person—lingering, watching. He couldn’t stay there; people were watching.

But he couldn’t stop coughing either. If not for Hyunbin, he would’ve doubled over by now. A brief respite allowed him a single, deep breath and a chance to choke out, “bathroom. I need a—” before the fit continued.

Hyunbin steered him away, and Jonghyun clung to him with one arm, the other still over his mouth. He counted it as a small success that the petals didn’t come until he reached the bathroom, tucked in a stall he didn’t have time to close. 

Hyunbin was still watching, but Jonghyun spat out a flower. His hand twitched as though to catch it before realizing that was an awful idea.

With that first and final flower, the fit died down. Jonghyun leaned against the stall to catch his breath, not daring to look into the toilet before he flushed it. His entire body trembled like he’d spent the last day out in the snow but sweated like he was on the sun. 

Hyunbin watched, silent and wide-eyed. Questions swam in the air between them, as thick as the honey scent in the air.

Maybe he could ignore it, could play it off as nothing. Like a ‘hahaha, what? Hanahaki? What a joke,’ type thing. 

“It’s good to see you.” Jonghyun ignored the rasp in his voice and scooped sink water to his mouth. His makeup had run, leaving small smears and darker circles under his eyes. The makeup noonas would be pissed at him for that. 

Jonghyun grimaced. “How are you?” He tried to force a smile and failed.

As expected, it didn’t go over well. “Hyung—” Hyunbin didn’t ask a question, but his concern was so palpable Jonghyun could hear the unspoken words. “You’re sick.” Still not a question.

“I’m fine.” He was getting sick of his own tight, fake smiles. “Sorry you saw that.”

“You’re shaking.”

Jonghyun looked down, and sure enough, he was. He clasped his hands together to stop it. “I can’t stay long.” It was true. They had things to do that day, and Jonghyun had already wasted more time than they really had.

Hyunbin nodded, the motion small and unsure. Jonghyun hated how he’d changed Hyunbin’s mood from happy to whatever the hell it was now. He hadn’t deserved to have his day ruined and his smile killed.

Jonghyun kept his gaze down. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what to say, but Hyunbin hadn’t deserved to see him like this. 

“Does—does anyone know?” Meaning: have you told anyone?

It had an easy answer; one he didn’t need to think about. “No.” But maybe lying would’ve been better? Too late now.

“No one?” Hyunbin looked stricken. “Not—not even your members?” 

Jonghyun started and betrayed himself by looking up. Hyunbin’s eyes were watery, and if he cried Jonghyun probably would too. He couldn’t afford that; he was supposed to have a photoshoot right now.

“No,” he said. “But I’m planning on it, I swear.” Now time for the lying. (Was it a lie? Why didn’t Jonghyun know anything anymore?)

“Minhyun too?”

His heartbeat raced in his chest, his breath shallow. “Why would I tell him?” His sharp tone only betrayed him, and surely, surely Hyunbin could hear his panic. Hell, Jonghyun could near taste his adrenaline. Hyunbin probably only mentioned Minhyun because he'd seen how close they were, because it had always been Minhyun telling the trainees how Jonghyun buried everything and tried not to worry other people. 

“Hyung.” Hyunbin bit his lip and said the word like a plea. Jonghyun had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop his tears. He wished he could splash some water on his face. 

Fuck, his makeup would need a lot of fixing. Jonghyun swallowed hard. He couldn’t do this. Hyunbin was waiting for answers, and everyone was waiting for him, and _fuck, Minhyun—_

Jonghyun hadn’t even texted him to apologize yet. He’d ignored him for over three days now, and they never did that to each other.

“Don’t tell him.” Jonghyun’s eyes were desperate, despite his calm tone. “Please.” 

His secret slipped through his fingers like water, despite him lunging after it. Jonghyun could hardly even think about Minhyun, let alone imagine telling him, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve to find out from someone else. 

“He's the--You're sick because--" Hyunbin's throat worked as he swallowed. He took a beat to gather his words. "You love him.” 

“I—” It was such a direct statement Jonghyun's words died before they lived. He’d thought about this a lot, thought about it for years, but everything had come in well-wrapped, neat packages. Yes, Jonghyun loved Minhyun because he loved all his members. Duh. Of course. It didn't matter if he happened to want to...kiss him or whatever, that he looked at Minhyun just a little differently than the others. It was all the same love.

Hyunbin's words were different, and they cut deep. 

Jonghyun couldn’t answer. 

“You should tell him.” Hyunbin was probably right. At this point… well, the chance of the disease fading had only ever been small, if he were honest with himself. "He'd want to know."

Jonghyun had kept waiting and waiting, and now he was even coughing up petals in public. If he did that and someone got a photo—he could ruin all their careers. Other groups had dealt with things like that before, and some of them had nearly lost everything over rumors alone, no proof in sight. 

Nothing like the heavy, familiar scent that hung in the bathroom, and the petals swallowed down the drain.

But Jonghyun couldn’t tell Minhyun. He couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet.

“Don't tell him,” he repeated. “Please.” 

“Of course I won’t.” Hyunbin wrapped a careful arm around him, and Jonghyun relaxed into his embrace once again. He’d forgotten how tall Hyunbin was, all arms and legs and an awkwardness that was so, so heartbreakingly sweet. “I can’t believe—I mean, we all saw you and him but—”

“It’s okay.”

“Hyung, promise me you’ll tell them. Please.” 

Jonghyun never had been able to say no to Hyunbin, even when they’d been damn near strangers. “I will,” he lied. Hyunbin’s arms tightened around him, trusting him because Jonghyun had never given him a reason not to. It was gentle, comforting in way Jonghyun didn’t deserve.

But their hug couldn’t last forever, and when Jonghyun returned to the others, he was met by thin-lipped friends and a red-faced manager. Sure enough, he received a scolding from the stylists, and his friends’ blatant stares were hard to ignore.

He’d yet to give them any type of reason for blowing off Minhyun—and them—after he’d promised to be there.

This wasn’t like him; Jonghyun normally would never do anything like that. 

Of course, that made sense. He didn’t really remember how he was supposed to feel anymore and acting as he should every day had become more and more of a job, a mask to slip on from morning to night and all over again the next day.

He was tired. Jonghyun was so fucking tired.

Maybe if he hadn’t been, if he’d had more time to stop and think and smell the roses, he would’ve remembered that once a secret escapes, there’s no recapturing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy so a little Minhyun and probably a curveball as to who finds out first pfft. Hope you enjoyed!! Oh, also, when I learned about Hanahaki I immediately had a moment of "I understand now!" four years late about Good Bye Bye. Idk if that's what they were actually going for?? But in any case, that's what I went with for this. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos absolutely make my day!! Thank you!!


	4. Hopeful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There wasn’t a happy ending for people sick with Hanahaki. The disease brought only pain and suffering, and if someone had to do it, Jonghyun would rather it be him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that this chapter and the next will have a couple people in it that no one's gonna care about, but I promise they're in here for ~super important~ plot reasons so please roll with their general existence

“You don’t like it.”

Jonghyun shook his head. “No, no, I do. Really.” He was in Dongho’s studio, watching as he messed with something minor on his computer. The beat of what would become a new song played over the speakers, something Dongho had proposed to become their title track.

Genre-wise, it wasn’t anything outstanding or unexpected from them but content-wise…

Jonghyun couldn’t place it. The sound was weird, in a minor key but never completing the chord, so it never sounded sad. Serious lyrics would fit it well, but it wasn’t meant to be a gloomy song. The idea of writing anything for the beat was relatively intimidating; the song needed lyrics that said something. 

Jonghyun would almost call the music alone unfinished, but that implied it was a problem, not that that was exactly what it was going for.

“It’s—confusing.” His voice was almost timid. Dongho grimaced at him. “But I don’t know if that’s a bad thing? I think it could be something.”

“You can just tell me you don’t like it.”

“I do like it; I just don’t know if I totally—get it? Can you explain it? You don’t normally call me down till you’re sure about things.”

Dongho took his time to answer, first staring at the screen. Jonghyun fidgeted in his seat, his heart racing faster than it should. He tried to replay the song in his head, but it eluded him, just out of reach.

“I didn’t want it to be sad,” Dongho said. “Because we’re not. But I wanted it to be serious.” He rubbed his eyes and ran that hand down his jaw. It scraped over his stubble. The computer screen was near painful to look at in the dim room, and Jonghyun made a mental reminder to force Dongho to leave soon. It likely wouldn’t work, but he had to try.

Dongho turned and looked at him. “This is our last comeback as Nu’est W, and so far we’ve only looked back. I want to do something more hopeful.”

“But not lighthearted.” It was making more sense, noise becoming music. Jonghyun trusted Dongho’s ideas and his compositions. 

“Do you think it’ll work?”

He still didn’t know. It was hard to hear the beat and imagine it as an entire song. Jonghyun had no idea what he’d write for it, and the music hadn’t yet created an image in his head. There was no path to follow, no matter how vague. 

“Can you play it again?”

Creases grew between Dongho's eyebrows. Jonghyun shifted so their thighs pressed together. 

“I trust you,” he said. “If you think we can do this, then we can.”

“Okay, but I don’t know if I trust me.” Dongho smiled, lips thinned with self-depreciation. 

Jonghyun knocked their shoulders against each other. It didn’t shift Dongho. “Don’t say that. But really, play it again. I want to hear it again.”

Dongho took a deep breath before he repeated it. 

Jonghyun nodded his head to the beat. It had that same delayed drop has their past title tracks, something that had become somewhat their style. Despite that, it was utterly different than the last two. 

The more he listened to it, the more he liked it.

“I think we can do it,” he said. “Have you been working on lyrics yet?”

“Nothing too much.” Dongho sighed. “It took me a long time to even figure out what I wanted to do with this.”

That made sense. Jonghyun couldn’t help but question what he could possibly write to do something like this justice, but he agreed with Dongho. Their last comeback as Nu’est W should look forward. 

The song looped again from the beginning, and Dongho didn’t stop it. Jonghyun closed his eyes, tried to get at least an image in his head, a concept, anything. 

It wouldn’t be so difficult if Jonghyun wasn’t so utterly scared of what the future held for all of them. 

Not to mention guilty. What was he doing, keeping such big secrets? They’d be pissed to know what he’d done, and they’d cart him off to the hospital immediately. 

Was that such a bad thing?

They were preparing for their final comeback as Nu’est W, and Jonghyun had been coughing up petals since before the subgroup had formally existed. It hadn’t been a hard secret to keep for a long time; their lives had become fever dreams, a real-life application of the imagined best-case scenario.

When he got sick, it had only seemed like another aspect of that, unreal and abstract and not something that would ever really affect him.

Maybe that was why it had taken so long to truly root itself and grow, becoming a bigger and bigger problem, until finally now, when the secret ate at him every day and his coughing occasionally woke the others at night. 

At some point, reality had to sink in. Dongho was talking about hope for the future, and Jonghyun had to accept what everyone already knew: Hanahaki disease doesn’t go away on its own.

Why was he hiding it again? Jonghyun was so tired of lying to everyone. Wouldn’t it be easier if he just said something? They’d want him to say something.

Except that also meant ruining things for everyone else. The Hanahaki had ended his fever dream of opportunity, and Jonghyun couldn’t let that happen to the others.

He still didn’t know what the surgery would cause. If he got it, that meant informing Pledis of his condition, taking time off to recover, and the forcible removal of his love.

His symptoms of love weren’t all that different than how he felt for his other close friends. Sure, Minhyun’s smile sent his heart pounding in the best way, but was that so different than the floaty feeling that spread through his chest when Dongho got that one particular smile that meant he was proud of something he’d composed?

(That same one he was doing right now, Jonghyun meant. He tried not to grimace back.)

Jonghyun didn’t think so. The line between love and friendship was too thin for him to mess with it. Minhyun’s tears the night he realized he, and he alone of all of them, had made Wanna One were burned into Jonghyun.

It was the final way he’d failed him, forcing him to handle the stress of leaving the others alone. Minhyun had banked on doing it with him, at the very least, and Jonghyun hadn’t been able to give him that. 

The least Jonghyun could do was ensure he’d return to a dorm of people who loved him. Imagining pulling Minhyun into a hug only for appearances, of playing the part of someone who loved him but truthfully having no feelings at all, made his skin crawl and a shiver rack through him.

The others would agree with him, too. Jonghyun couldn’t tell them; that would be like forcing them to choose between him and Minhyun.

He wasn’t naïve. Jonghyun might be young, but he’d been through more than most others his age. There wasn’t a happy ending for people sick with Hanahaki. The disease brought only pain and suffering, and if someone had to do it, he’d rather it be him.

At least this way, he could sleep at night knowing he did his best to take care of his members. 

Dongho stopped the song before it could repeat again, and Jonghyun stared at the computer screen, his mind busy and trapped and wordless.

He’d hardly heard the music.

 

\--

 

His phone screen didn’t add much to the overall brightness of the airport—technically it was daytime, after all—but Aaron still grimaced each time it lit up. His eyes burned, and he wanted nothing else than to knock out like the other members.

Jonghyun had been the last to fall asleep, first fidgeting in his seat, trying to get comfortable, which led to Aaron finally offering his shoulder.

Even with the air conditioning, it was a little too hot to be this close with someone, but Jonghyun had only smiled and leaned against him. Since then, he’d stilled and calmed, and Aaron hoped the screen of his phone didn’t bother him too much.

He didn’t know what exactly was happening in Jonghyun’s head, but considering how common it had become to hear their makeup team scolding him for the bags under his eyes, he wasn’t sleeping enough.

They were in Hong Kong for a layover, and their flight to Los Angeles had been delayed. It was no big deal; they had time built in the schedule for something like this. 

Aaron’s phone lit up with a new text, and he grimaced at it. He’d promised his family and a few close friends to stop by and see them, and that was time he was losing.

His mom didn’t sound upset or angry, but she did seem disappointed, and that was even worse. 

He reiterated once more that he still didn’t have any information about the delay, but that hopefully they’d hear something soon. Just as he sent it, Jonghyun shifted on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” His voice was muffled from his mask and hoarse, but that could’ve been from sleeping or from the persistent cough he’d carried around with him the past few weeks.

“Nothing important,” Aaron said. “Being your headrest.”

Jonghyun yawned, but he settled back on Aaron’s shoulder, peering down at his phone. Aaron had been texting in English, so the chance of Jonghyun reading his messages was low. He wouldn’t have bothered to hide it either way.

“You should rest too,” Jonghyun said. “I can move if you want?”

“No, you’re good.” Aaron dropped his free hand on Jonghyun’s back. He blinked slowly, fighting sleep off some more.

“What’s wrong?” Jonghyun asked. “You’re—quiet.”

“And you’re bothering me and not sleeping.”

“I slept on the plane.” Jonghyun sat the rest of the way up. “I’m not too tired.” He suppressed a yawn that tried to betray him, and it was enough to pull one out of Aaron too.

“My mom’s disappointed I may not have time to see her.” He wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal, but it kind of was. Aaron shrugged and winced at the tightness of the shoulder Jonghyun had been laying on. 

None of them got to see their families all that often, but Aaron had it considerably worse. This was the first time he’d see them since their luck had turned around and they’d started becoming successful again. 

“I forgot about that,” Jonghyun said. He sounded vaguely guilt over it, and Aaron would’ve rolled his eyes if it was some different situation. It was such a Jonghyun thing to try and take on the whole world like that. “I’m sure you’ll have time still.”

“Hopefully.”

“Besides, even if it’s the middle of the night she’d still want to see you, right?” 

He was probably right but—“I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“You’re definitely not,” Jonghyun said. “They’ll appreciate you coming.”

Aaron’s phone buzzed with another text, this time from one of his sisters. She was going to Kcon, though she’d made it clear it was for Momoland and Ailee and seeing him perform was only a bonus (considering she’d also threatened that he better not make her cry when he visited, Aaron wasn’t too worried). It was a photo of her with a Baekho banner, and Aaron had to laugh at that.

Jonghyun also giggled. “Sure you don’t want us to come with you?” he asked. “You could introduce them.”

Aaron chuckled. “Trust me, she only likes him for his face.” The last he’d heard—which was much too long ago—she’d been happily dating some guy whose name Aaron couldn’t remember. 

Jonghyun laughed again and dropped his chin back onto Aaron’s shoulder. “See?” he said. “They definitely want to see you.”

Aaron agreed. He still wished for updates more than anything, but Jonghyun was right. They’d want to see him no matter when or how short a time he had. 

Jonghyun was still balanced on his shoulder, even when Aaron shifted and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “You sleeping?” he asked.

“Nah. Thinking.”

“That’s scary.”

“Shut up,” Jonghyun said. “As if you have room to talk.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Mm.” He made a sound akin to a verbal shrug. “Nothing important, really. I don’t know.”

“Lot of effort for an ‘I don’t know’”

“Shhh,” Jonghyun said. “I’m sleeping.”

“You’re thinking so loud, I can hear it.”

“So?” He sounded vaguely annoyed, and Aaron hoped that was better than his smooth refusal to speak about it.

“Just tell me what’s up,” he said. 

Jonghyun breathed out sharply through his nose. “It’s nothing.” His words were short. “I’m just processing, you know? Things are changing.”

He didn’t clarify further, but Aaron could fill in the gaps easily enough. They were performing at Kcon for the first time in years. Fans of theirs had shown up at the Incheon airport and at the Hong Kong airport. Jonghyun, in particular, couldn’t meet a person’s eyes without them recognizing him, mainly from all the variety shows he’d done recently. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Of course it is,” Jonghyun said. His voice had dropped and fallen flat, telling Aaron that, if nothing else, not all the change was good. He turned his head to face further away but didn’t remove it from Aaron’s shoulder. “It’s a lot though, isn’t it?” Jonghyun chuckled, but the sound mocked him. “I’m nervous.”

“We all are,” Aaron said. “Not just you.”

“I think it is just me though.” Jonghyun stared at his hands, first cupping them, then tightening his grip to lock them together. “Do you ever regret it?” 

“I—” Aaron’s mouth worked before his head caught up, and he jolted a little. Jonghyun’s head bounced on his shoulder. “Regret what?”

He sat up but wouldn’t meet Aaron’s eyes. “Nothing. Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve—”

“No, it’s fine.” Aaron tried to laugh but it sounded off. “It was just sudden. Regret what?”

Jonghyun hummed. “Just—leaving America and everything. I don’t know. I’ve kinda been thinking about it recently. For me, I mean. Like, I’m really happy we’re here, but just it could’ve been so different, you know?”

“Well—”

“I know it’s stupid to think about.” Jonghyun’s face had reddened and tightened, no doubt regretting saying anything at all. 

Aaron spluttered to save the conversation. They’d been all trying to figure out what was wrong for weeks. He didn’t want to mess this up if Jonghyun finally was willing to talk about it.

“It’s really not,” Aaron managed. “It’s pretty normal to think about, I think.”

“But not to regret it,” Jonghyun argued. “If you’re happy you shouldn’t do that.” His voice rose enough that Aaron glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. Jonghyun noticed and cleared his throat.

“Is anyone really happy all the time?” Aaron’s voice was much quieter. “I definitely regret leaving my family sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I wish I’d chosen differently.”

This wasn’t a role he often filled, despite being the oldest. Even when they'd first met, it had been Jonghyun who stepped in to help him navigate his way through Pledis and just through Korea in general. That had changed with time, of course, but Aaron still rarely stepped in to hand out advice or anything. He wasn’t that good at it anyway.

The last time Jonghyun had come to him like this was when he’d first considered signing up for Produce 101, and he’d come to ask if it was childish for them to have any hope left.

Aaron supposed it was a point for him that he’d told Jonghyun if they were really willing to commit to it and do it to the complete best of their ability, it might pan out for them. 

Jonghyun fell silent, but Aaron wasn’t willing to let the conversation end there. “What do you regret?”

Jonghyun wasn’t the subtlest person, and the defensive tilt to his body couldn’t have been much clearer. Then he sighed, and the tension dropped away. “A lot, I guess. I wish I could be happy with what I have.”

“You know you can talk to us, right? You’re putting too much on yourself.” He’d always been like that, willing to bear the guilt for everything all alone. It wasn’t good for him.

“I don’t want to worry anyone.” 

Aaron pinched his thigh, and Jonghyun jolted and smacked his hand away. “You do realize we worry a lot more when you don’t tell us, right? We can all tell something’s wrong.”

“I’m just—tired. And sick,” Jonghyun said. “I don’t really know why I’m not getting better.”

It was nothing Aaron hadn’t seen in the past month. Jonghyun tired quicker than ever, and he’d replaced the long hours reserved for video games with sleeping. Despite that, he still seemed tired as ever the next day, and his cough never did go away fully. “Why don’t you go see a doctor? Even if it’s just a cough, it’s not normal for one to last this long. It’s been—what? A month? Two?”

Jonghyun shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He only shook his head again.

Aaron sighed. “What if you get worse though? You can’t just ignore—”

A call for everyone’s attention startled him into silence, and Aaron didn’t speak as the announcement began, straining to hear as though he knew more than a handful of Chinese words. Across from them, Minki groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Dongho didn’t wake.

The employee repeated her words in English, and Aaron had to smile as she stated the plane had arrived, and they’d soon board it.

He quickly explained the announcement when Jonghyun blinked at him expectantly. Minki leaned in closer to catch it, nudging Dongho. They still had a few minutes to wait, but at least now they were on their way.

Aaron looked back at his phone and sent off a quick message to his mother.

 

\--

 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t trying to act normal; it was just that he was failing. Hyunbin had asked to come over his friends’ apartment, then proceeded to curl up on the corner of their couch, utterly ignore the movie playing, and barely speak. Not even the couple drinks he’d had loosened him up, which was unfortunate.

He almost regretted coming, but well, he’d do the same thing alone at his own place otherwise, and at least here he could pretend to listen to Youngjae chatter.

Youngjae had originally invited a few other of their friends, but they hadn’t been able to come. That was, sadly, normal for them; a group of idols all from different groups and companies had few well-timed free moments to meet up. 

Still, Hyunbin wasn’t going to complain, considering Youngjae hadn’t kicked him out yet despite his bad company. 

“So what’s going on with you?” Youngjae’s expectant look left Hyunbin blinking.

“Me?”

“No the other you here.” Youngjae rolled his eyes. “You’ve been out of it all night. What’s up?”

“Nothing!” Hyunbin’s protest was too dramatic to play off, and he had to smile sheepishly. 

Youngjae pinched his arm, and he jerked it away even though it hadn't hurt. “You’re a mess. Seriously, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” 

“It’s nothing that important—”

“Your entire existence right now says otherwise.” Youngjae made a vague circular gesture to encompass him.

“Okay, okay fine,” Hyunbin said, giving in too quickly because really, what was the harm of telling someone a little about it, at least? He didn’t have to mention names, and Youngjae didn’t even know any of the Nu’est members personally anyway. 

Still, Hyunbin couldn’t help the unrest fluttering in his stomach. He’d told Jonghyun he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Did it really count if he didn’t say names though? And it wasn’t like he was telling Minhyun or anyone close to Minhyun.

“You plan on speaking?” Youngjae asked. “Or should I start guessing?”

His blunt words didn’t fool Hyunbin, who could see the wrinkles in his forehead. “I’m just thinking. It’s complicated,” he said. “I want to say it right.”

“Just say it,” Youngjae countered. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

Hyunbin nodded and took a sip of his drink. The alcohol wasn’t helping him order his thoughts. “One of my friends has Hanahaki, and I think I’m the only one that knows.” 

Youngjae blinked. “Hanahaki? You’re kidding.”

“I caught him while he was—you know.”

“How bad is it? I don’t know much about it." Youngjae pulled a face. “Is he an idol?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he's an idol," Hyunbin said.

“Not someone I know, right?” Youngjae chewed on his lip. “Actually you don’t have to—”

“You probably know of him, but I don’t think you know him.” BAP and Nu’est had debuted the same year, but Hyunbin had never heard either of them mention the other. 

“God, I haven’t heard of an idol with it since—well, since the Super Junior scandal.” 

“I barely even know about that, really.” 

“Oh right, you’re young.”

“Hyung,” Hyunbin complained, but a smile, albeit a small one, pulled at his lips. It faded quickly. “I—don’t know what to do? I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.”

Youngjae hummed. “And the one he, y’know…loves…doesn’t know?” 

“Definitely not.” Jonghyun had been shaking as he begged Hyunbin to not tell Minhyun. The memory brought tears to Hyunbin’s eyes because fuck, it was so unfair. Why did this happen to Jonghyun, of all people? Few people deserved good things as much as he did. 

It was so fucking unfair. 

“He practically begged me not to tell him.” Hyunbin looked at his hands, saw his forgotten drink, and drained the few swallows left. “But I don’t think he will. And they don't see each other all that much. He’s not promoting with Nu’est right now so—”

“Nu’est?” Youngjae's voice jumped to a higher pitch.

Hyunbin swore. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s okay. You're right--I don't really know them.”

“Thank you.” Hyunbin’s voice was small. “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I can’t—I don’t know if he’ll tell anyone, but I don’t want to betray his trust. But he’s sick. When I saw him, he couldn’t stop coughing.” 

Seeing Jonghyun shake against the sink, his makeup running and his face sweaty as he tried to ask Hyunbin how he was doing had been horrifying.

Hyunbin’s heart had frozen in his throat, and he’d been able to do little then besides make Jonghyun promise to tell someone. Maybe he would, but that seemed like a huge weight on a fragile promise. 

“Seems like they're everywhere these days. Will you even see them again?” 

“I’m sure I will eventually, just—”

“Yeah.” Youngjae shook his head and sighed. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do.” 

Hyunbin grimaced. That was what he’d thought all along, but hearing it confirmed didn’t make him feel all that much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so again some ~super important~ plot things are happening finally lol hope you enjoyed!!


	5. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He almost wanted to tell Minki everything, to lean in and give up. But if there was one thing he had going for him, it was that he kept trying. Everyone called it his best quality.
> 
> If he worked hard and kept running and never, ever stopped, maybe he’d finally get somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning that this one has a relatively graphic scene with anxiety and throwing up. Be careful, friends :)

Minhyun didn’t exactly know how it happened, but somehow six of them were circled around the biggest bowl of bingsoo he’d ever seen. At another table, the younger five had already dug into their own bowl.

“Are you serious?” Jaehwan’s eyes had lit up as soon as he’d seen it, and he twisted as though searching for whoever planned to take it from them. 

Minhyun laughed and put a hand on his leg. “Worried it’ll run away?” he quipped, as though he didn’t absolutely understand. It was surreal being back in Korea after so long, let alone having time to breathe and celebrate their success. 

Jaehwan pinched his arm. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. "Keep your elitism to yourself, will you? Some of us are trying to eat." He mimed flinging a spoonful of ice and strawberry at Minhyun.

"Don't you dare!" Jisung jumped in, his hand twitching like he wanted to take Jaehwan's spoon.

“Do it; he deserves it." Sungwoon was an instigator, as always. His smile took up half his face. 

“Hyung!” Minhyun mocked offense and dropped his mouth open. Jaehwan tried to stick his spoon into it. 

“Are you two done flirting?” Seongwoo had already started eating. Scratch that, they’d all started, except for Minhyun. Jaehwan's spoon still hung out of his mouth. 

Minhyun chose to rectify that tragedy rather than respond. He closed his eyes in ecstasy. It was so nice being back home again, even if they only had a handful of hours till the celebration was over and life returned to schedules, schedules, schedules. 

Still, worth it. Minhyun hadn’t been able to take such a deep breath in a long while, too busy pin-balling around the world and back.

He loved it all, but a second without cameras jammed in his face was everything he needed. A smile stretched across his lips.

“Better watch out, hyung.” Jaehwan poked his cheek. “If you waste too much time enjoying, it’ll all be gone.” 

Minhyun scrunched up his nose. “Just let me have my moment.”

Jaehwan tried to tickle him, and Minhyun (accidentally) elbowed him in the ribs. The whole circle laughed at Jaehwan’s betrayed face. Minhyun took another spoonful of the diminishing mountain. 

There was still about a third left when the other five started crowding around. 

“You’re all so slow,” Jihoon said, pulling his chair up behind Seongwoo and Daniel. “We finished ages ago.”

“One day you’ll understand patience,” Seongwoo said. He shook his head, overdramatic as always. “When you’re older and more mature, like us.” 

“You’ve definitely got the old down, hyung!” Daehwi smiled brightly at him, even as Seongwoo clutched a hand to his heart like he’d been shot.

Minhyun continued his slow spoonfuls, smiling as the bickering continued. 

“After this we’re sending the kids to bed and getting the soju out, if you want,” Jaehwan said, his voice borderline too loud for a whisper. Guanlin narrowed his eyes at them, but Minhyun doubted he’d understood Jaehwan’s muffled whisper-yell. 

Besides, it didn’t matter. “You know I don’t drink.”

Jaehwan pouted. “You do sometimes!” he countered. “Please? You don’t have to drink a lot or anything.”

“I’ll stay down here,” Minhyun said. That was a fair compromise. “Someone has to keep an eye on all you.”

“That’s fine!” Jaehwan beamed at him. “You should drink, though,” he said. “You always start telling really cool stories when you do.”

Minhyun’s smile faltered. He got it back up quickly, hiding the struggle of forcing it from crooked to real behind a spoonful of bingsoo. 

Sweet, cold ice bloomed across his tongue. 

Those were the kind of things he avoided: the stories. They were great, hilarious and wonderful from Minhyun’s point-of-view, and the others found them fascinating. Minhyun could tell stories about Japan, about China. Not to mention Aaron was American, so Minhyun had an arsenal of hand-me-down stories about there too.

But all those reeked of Nu’est, and if he told too many, wouldn’t the ache in him become too obvious? 

He loved his members too much to remind them constantly that he’d never spend forever with them. Sometimes, someone--Jihoon, Daehwi, even Jaehwan once, before he'd remembered--would bring up a fantasy of a permanent contract, like Wanna One could last forever. 

It was the young ones, mostly, and the ones unspoken for. They had friends and missed their families, but they had so many open paths and places to travel in their future. Of course they’d want to do it with the other Wanna One members at their sides.

Minhyun knew better than most the kind of bonds groups could form between members, even a group where all eleven had started as rivals. Even when Minhyun had vivid memories of discussing the others' strengths and weaknesses with Jonghyun, Dongho, and Minki, of forming plans for how to beat them late at night and laughing with them during the day.

They'd come so far in the year since. That was why he stepped back during those conversations and stayed silent and why he buried so many fun stories, biting his tongue and holding his breath. It would help no one to remind them he had commitments he intended to return to.

Jaehwan was intelligent enough to figure out what he’d done. His face fell. “Sorry,” he said, tentative. Their experiences with the industry so far had been complete opposites: an independent trainee, a main vocal, main everything who’d ran on talent alone versus a nearly-failed idol who’d dedicated a decade of life to a single company only to be rented to another while tightrope-walking over a chasm.

It all had seemed like a lot when they’d first met, but now, not so much. Minhyun appreciated that.

“Nothing to apologize for.” He waved it off, and Jaehwan dropped it. Minhyun didn’t have to worry about him absorbing the blame anyway, that wasn't how Jaehwan handled things, but he narrowed his eyes and observed him anyway. It was a habit he'd never totally dropped, even if the one he always worried about wasn't with him currently.

 

\--

 

 

Before Wanna One debuted, Nu’est (W, and the clarification was important because it had happened back when the letter hurt but no letter and no Minhyun hurt more) decided to stay up on whatever they were doing. Not only because of Minhyun, but because a lot of their friends were in it. Despite the quiet sting, the slight ‘what do they have that I didn’t?’ that whispered into their ears, they all liked to support them.

But there was so much, and time trickled away. With Jonghyun’s self-imposed isolation, he hasn’t even seen a photo of Minhyun in nearly a month, let alone actually spoken to him. 

The guilt snuck up on him, wrapping like plastic around his heart. No wonder Minhyun didn’t love him; Jonghyun wasn’t even supporting him, and he’d fucked everything up just in time for them all to be back in Korea.

Minhyun was hurting. Jonghyun had avoided him and ignored his messages with no explanation. The others hadn’t brought it up since the phone call, so it seemed like Minhyun hadn’t asked them about him. Jonghyun kind of wished he had.

If one of them checked him for being shitty, maybe it would make him be a better person for once.

Unable to have the Minhyun he wanted, he spent that night just—watching. 

And missing.

And at this point, it couldn’t be clearer that thinking of Minhyun made him worse. It made him sicker. He was supposed to get over Minhyun, not obsess over him because even if he pretended he was also watching Daniel and Seongwoo and all of them, he really wasn’t.

Minhyun had this way of making everything his. He never apologized for taking up space, could have a presence even when silent. Jonghyun found it fascinating to watch; he always had. Doing this was no different than when he’d struggled to pull his eyes off Minhyun during their own interviews. 

Maybe even if he was sick, there was nothing wrong with indulging, even if he’d only planned to do so for an hour or two, but evening had become night and nearly transformed into morning. Jonghyun was alone in his room, so he wasn’t disturbing anyone even when he coughed. It was no big deal. 

The flowers by his side and the petals in his throat disagreed.

The shortness of his breath disagreed. For so long, it had been easy to ignore, but he was in-tune with himself enough to know his health was becoming a major problem.

He’d suffered the embarrassment of doing by far the worst of all the main dancers he’d filmed with, struggling until Taeyong pulled him aside and in an overly transparent attempt to give him a longer break, asked for his advice. Leader to leader, he’d said, as though Jonghyun had anything he could offer Taeyong, who was a better rapper, a better dancer, a better leader.

It had been…shameful, even worse because they’d been so kind about it, so concerned every time he broke down coughing. He’d tried to apologize, but Changmin had frowned at him and was all ‘you’re sick, hyung. It’s not your fault,' and he wasn't even that much younger than Jonghyun, but he'd seemed so sweet and innocent that Jonghyun let them baby him.

Jonghyun was sick. That much he admitted. But his illness was his fault, borne of him fucking up and feelings that should’ve gone back to normal a long time ago.

He curled up on his bed, earphones in so the others couldn’t hear him. The sweet scent hung heavy in the air, a fermata hanging in suspense, waiting for an unknown conductor. The back of his mouth watered as though his body prepared to vomit. 

Still, the video played. Jonghyun could barely see it past all the memories fogging the air, but he didn’t really care. What had happened to him that now he watched Minhyun like he didn’t know him?

Watched as though he couldn’t list the ways Minhyun deflected overly personal questions, the exact laughs he used in different situations, the way a shift of position betrayed his annoyance or quick blinking betrayed his exhaustion.

How many hours had they spent going over diplomatic answers and lists of possible questions, covering who’d speak when and say what?

Minhyun was coated in makeup and wearing a large, loose blue shirt. He blinked too fast and faded into the background in all the ways he never would’ve with Nu’est.

Jonghyun wanted to make that into Minhyun being uncomfortable, that his quietness came from awkwardness because he wasn’t supposed to be with Wanna One at all, but that was unfair. Recorded Minhyun, all smiles and soft angles for the camera, laughed hard and half-collapsed on Seongwoo.

Jonghyun knew that laugh. It was a real one. 

With a cold, shaking hand, Jonghyun tapped the back arrow. It replayed the tail end of Minhyun’s laugh and how Seongwoo’s arms wrapped around him. Jonghyun hit it again.

That was when the door opened. He jerked, and his laptop slipped sideways. Minki leaned against the doorway. Minhyun laughed in his ears.

Jonghyun didn’t let his eyes slide to the pile of flowers beside him, but they were in plain view, cream against his navy comforter. “Hey, what’s up?” His voice echoed strangely, and he removed his earbuds. “Why are you awake?” 

“You’ve been coughing all night,” Minki said. “Wanted to check you weren’t dead.” He had red-rubbed eyes and a heavy frown.

Jonghyun tried to smile. “I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.” It came out mechanical, as though written on some script and spoken to a camera. He’d been doing that a lot lately, hadn’t he? 

“What are you even doing? You should be sleeping.” Minki hopped onto his bed. Jonghyun snapped his laptop shut. “Please tell me that wasn’t porn.”

He wasn’t particularly embarrassed or anything, but his tired mind fled five directions at once, only to circle around with Minhyun and porn, and his face grew hot. He swallowed hard and a creeping cough slunk down his throat.

“It’s not porn,” he mumbled. His throat tickled. He tried to summon the name of an anime he’d been watching recently as a cover, but it wouldn’t pop into his head. Jonghyun’s eyes burned.

“And don’t tell me you got more of those flowers. That smell is aw…ful.” Minki’s voice dropped low and barely finished what started as a hybrid of a demand and a question. Jonghyun dared to follow his gaze to the pile of flowers.

“Aren’t they pretty? I picked them today.” He said it cutely, once again acting as though Minki had a camera in his hands. For some reason, that was all he could manage. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Minki said, almost deadpanned, but there was no bite in it. He stared at the pile. “When did you go out? We were together all yesterday.”

“Oh—they aren’t far from here. I went for a walk.” 

Lying was second-nature by now, but that hadn’t been a good one. Going on walks wasn’t his thing, and he’d been exhausted yesterday. They’d nearly sent him home early from dance practice.

Minki grabbed one of the blooms. It glistened with spit, but Jonghyun didn’t protest, not even when Minki grimaced. He needed to accept the lie and leave before Jonghyun choked. 

But Minki took his time staring at the flower. “You’ve had a cough recently,” he said finally. “We’ve all heard it.”

“People get sick.” Jonghyun’s voice was a little too sharp, a little too defensive. He cleared it and couldn’t look at Minki anymore.

“The dorm’s smelled like these for like, three months. Where are you getting them?”

“I told you. They’re—around. And I think the smell grows on you.” Sometimes walking into his room was enough to make him gag, no flowers in his throat but strangled anyway.

“I’ve aired the whole dorm out at least four times!”

Despite the retort, he could all but hear Minki work something through in his head, hear him slither towards understanding. “Are you planning to let me sleep or no? It’s late, Minki.” His voice was weak and fading, the building cough too large for his chest. "Go to bed."

Minki ignored him, and finally Jonghyun couldn’t take it. His calm façade shattered with the first cough, and he darted to the bathroom. Fumbling, he locked the door mere seconds before flowers rose in his throat. He choked on them, sputtering to force them higher.

Jonghyun didn’t spare a glance at what was in the toilet, only flushed it. He leaned against the mirror, the glass cool against his reddened skin. 

Minki knew. Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut and bit his cheek so hard he tasted blood. He was screwed. It was over. Minki knew. 

It was a mantra, diffusing through his swirling head much like the scent had done to the bathroom, to the whole dorm. Jonghyun was lightheaded, the corners of the room dark and shifting in his vision. He focused on the solid weight of the mirror behind his back.

“Jonghyun, open the door.” The doorknob rattled. 

Jonghyun’s lungs burned, and he let his head dip forward. He had to breathe. The tile below was white and dirty, and had he been supposed to clean it? He’d forgotten whose turn it was. 

That wasn’t important now. Time moved like warm jelly, sloshing as the room jerked around. The lights left streaks all through the room and colors faded, but their intensity pulsed, graying and brightening with each blink. 

His hands were shaking. Jonghyun couldn’t feel it, could hardly feel them. 

“Jonghyun!” Minki almost sounded scared. Jonghyun hadn’t answered him, couldn’t remember the question. He rested his palm flat against the mirror and blinked slowly. 

“I’m—I’m sick.” His tongue couldn’t move right, his words garbled to his own ears. Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut again. “You’ll catch it if you’re here.” Sweat ran down his forehead and straight into his mouth. The salt made him gag. The smell made him gag.

“I can’t catch it from you.” Minki was very, very certain.

Jonghyun pitched forward and puked into the toilet. Once again, he didn’t look, his mouth acidic and burning. He rested his arm on the toilet seat and pressed his forehead against it. 

Jonghyun tried to straighten, but his knees buckled. His elbow caught the handle of a small cupboard under the sink. He trembled like he’d ran ten kilometers, like he’d finished a full dance for once. Jonghyun dropped his head into his hands.

Minki knew. He’d failed at the only job he’d assigned himself. One simple thing, and he hadn’t been able to do it. Jonghyun pressed his palm against his mouth like he was trying to keep something in, but his fingers were no better at hiding sobs than flowers. He swallowed, and the foul taste rolled his stomach.

“Jonghyun!” Minki’s tone was sharp, angry, shaky, scared. He must be pissed. Jonghyun’s breath was all in the top of his lungs, the rest frozen. Everything had blurred. He wrapped his arms around himself.

Still making things worse, despite his best efforts. Just like always.

The game was over now.

He forced shaky legs under him, one hand on the wall for support. Unlocking the door took several more tries than usual. By the time Minki entered, Jonghyun was spitting tap water down the drain.

He could hear Minki breathing but didn’t look. The sink was interesting and underappreciated and—dirtier than Minhyun ever would’ve allowed. 

Jonghyun swallowed hard. _Don’t think about him._

“Who is it?” Minki grabbed his hand and steered him from the bathroom. Jonghyun had no fight in him anymore. He stumbled, but Minki saved them with a hand against the doorway.

“Sorry,” he said. Minki led him to sit on his bed. Jonghyun stared at his hands, feet swinging gently. He shivered, the sweat on him turning cold. His shirt had a wet stain against his midback.

“Tell me who it is,” Minki repeated. He couldn’t admit it was Minhyun; that would only make it worse after Jonghyun had already ruined everything. 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“Jonghyun.” Minki sat next to him and leaned forward to look at him better.

“Minki,” Jonghyun mimicked. He sighed. “Clearly, it’s not returned so—”

“…Is it me?” 

Jonghyun snorted before he could help it. He flinched at the noise, as though it hadn't come from his mouth. “No. I love you but—no, definitely not.”

Minki punched him in the shoulder, but it was barely more than a tap. “That’s good at least,” he said. “How long?”

He’d been strangely calm about it so far, but this would piss him off. “Long time. I don’t know exactly—”

“Like three months?” And that was a good guess, but the smell hadn’t started until Jonghyun coughed up entire flowers, not only petals.

His shoulders slumped forward, his head hanging down. It wasn’t that he was avoiding eye contact; he was just so tired. Impossibly tired. The sky outside his window lightened. He was filming for a variety show today, would have to leave in a couple hours.

“Uh, a little longer. Like, a year. Ish.” Over a year, but whatever. He was close enough.

Jonghyun waited for his reaction with his head bowed. He wasn’t scared of Minki or anything, but it was crystal clear that once something was said, he couldn’t take it back. If he fucked this up, he fucked it up.

“Okay, okay.” Minki repeated it a few more times as he processed, rolling his jaw as he made room in his head for the fact Jonghyun had been lying to all of them for a year. “So you haven’t seen him. Not much, at least. It would’ve progressed faster if you did.” Jonghyun’s eyes flicked up, and Minki nodded in grim confirmation. “Who’d you fall in love with only to not see him for the past—year…”

Jonghyun didn’t answer because it was clear he didn’t have to. He’d avoided Minhyun purposefully for the past month; he’d started coughing only weeks after Minhyun left. 

“It’s someone from Produce 101.” 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so obvious. Jonghyun could work with that, could handle it. “It’ll go away,” he said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself all year?” Minki’s voice was harsh, but he rested a hand on Jonghyun’s arm. His shaking was enough to shake Minki too.

“Nine months.” His false correction came too late to have any impact. Minki didn’t bother to reply, only wrapping his arm around Jonghyun’s shoulders. 

“Breathe,” Minki told him. “You’re okay.” 

He was supposed to be angry. They all had roles to play in this game, and Jonghyun couldn’t keep his together for anything.

Tears burned in his eyes, and he took a long, shuddering breath. His head dropped onto Minki’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” It came out all choked, like the words were petals. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll figure this out.” Minki petted his hair and ignored the apologies wouldn’t stop spilling from his lips. What started as a forced admission now flowed like water. “The surgery—”

“No!” Jonghyun’s head shot up and nearly smacked into Minki’s. “That’ll mess everything up.”

He was supposed to love Minhyun. He couldn’t not love him, couldn’t go through never loving him again. His lungs constricted all over again, and he shoved a cough away only for it to tear out of him anyway. Minki flinched, but Jonghyun only spat out a petal and stacked it with the others still piled on his bed. 

“I know it’s got a long recovery time but we’ll figure it out. Your health is more important—” He cut off when Jonghyun shook his head. Minki didn’t get it, because of course, he didn’t. He didn’t know—

Jonghyun couldn’t tell him. Not this. Once he said something, he could never take it back. 

Minki pressed harder against him, then pulled away. “We need to talk to the others.”

“No.” 

Minki tried to pull him to his feet, but Jonghyun refused. “No way,” he repeated. “I can’t tell them.”

“Either you do or I do.” 

Jonghyun tried to laugh it off. Minki wouldn’t let go of his hand. “It’s not that big a deal, really. Just a couple flowers. I mean, it’s been a year and nothing’s happened. It’s going away anyway.” 

Ignoring how it had gotten worse. Ignoring how Jonghyun still very much loved Minhyun, how sometimes all he wanted was to share five billion new stories with him and hear all his too.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us. Did you not—trust us, or something?” Minki frowned and haha, right. Jonghyun had almost forgotten that he was an asshole and a failure who couldn’t stop stressing out his members.

He almost wanted to tell Minki everything, to lean in and give up. But if there was one thing he had going for him, it was that he kept trying. Everyone called it his best quality.

If he worked hard and kept running and never, ever stopped, maybe he’d finally go somewhere.

“You’re crying.” Minki’s voice was the barest murmur. Jonghyun flinched. His face was swollen, and his mouth tasted bad, and his nose dripped snot onto Minki’s wrist. It stained his sleeve.

“Please don’t tell them. Please.” 

He was backed into a corner, and Minki looked at him, all concerned and shit, his thumb rubbing the back of Jonghyun’s hand. Jonghyun hated it. Minki looked at him as though he hadn’t just announced a solid ‘checkmate’ and prepared to take Jonghyun’s king and end his game.

“Please.” Tears dripped into his mouth—or maybe snot. Jonghyun couldn’t tell. He must look like a nightmare.

“Fine. Okay. I won’t tell anyone.” Minki spared his king, but he didn’t smile.

Jonghyun’s shoulders slumped forward, and he nearly pitched into Minki’s arms.

The game would go on.

Minki ushered him under the covers and rested his palm against Jonghyun’s cheeks. “We’ll figure this out,” he said.

The greatest betrayal was the newfound lightness in Jonghyun’s heart. He wouldn't walk his path alone after all, despite his best efforts.

 

\--

 

 

“Hey, Daehyun?” Daehyun’s apartment was near spotless, except for the dog toys strewn across the floor. Youngjae’s cup of tea was too hot against his fingertips. He set it on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch. “Do you know any of the Nu’est members?” 

Youngjae already knew the answer. Daehyun had mentioned one of them last year on Instagram, asking their fans to support him on Produce 101. Youngjae couldn’t remember which one.

“That’s random,” Daehyun said. He sipped his own tea, clearly more accustomed to the heat. “Kinda? Minki hangs out with Seungkwan and I sometimes. Why?” 

Youngjae didn’t know if he should tell him or not. Daehyun cared too much sometimes, and he wouldn’t want to keep it a secret, not when his childhood friend was in the same group. “What about the one in Wanna One?” 

"In Wanna One? Fuck, I forget his name. Daniel’s definitely told me about him too.” Daehyun shook his head. “I’ve never really met him.”

Youngjae grimaced. He’d hoped Daehyun would’ve known him, if only enough to confirm whether he seemed the type to tell anyone about the Hanahaki or not. 

Daehyun had watched Produce 101 religiously, often pulling Youngjae into it with him so he could support Daniel. Youngjae had understood it—Daniel had been Daehyun’s closest friend pre-debut and they’d spent a lot of time together again during B.A.P’s hiatus—but he had also been unable to care all that much. 

If anything, watching the show only made him even more grateful that they’d never needed to do something that extreme. Sure, they weren’t the most popular, but that was more than enough in the face of elimination and idol reboot shows. Seeing Nu’est had been like a bucket of icy water. They’d once been called rivals, after all. Youngjae was glad they'd done well; they'd deserved it.

“Seriously though, why are you asking? You’re being weird.” 

“Am I?” He aimed for mocking but didn’t quite reach.

“What’s up?”

“Hyunbin was over,” Youngjae said. “He’s close with them, you know?” 

“Nu’est?” Daehyun’s brow furrowed. “I still don’t get why we’re talking about them.”

Was it really Youngjae’s place to pass on what Hyunbin told him? Especially considering how much Daehyun wanted Daniel and his group to succeed. 

Not only could Hanahaki tear a group apart—hell, people still remembered Super Junior’s scandal despite how it had occurred a decade ago—but it also was a disease. It was killing someone, and not only that, but it was killing someone one of Daehyun’s closest friends cared about.

That made it Youngjae’s business, right? He’d even once met Daniel, back in 2015 when he’d visited Daehyun in Busan. Not to mention Hyunbin, who shouldn’t have to bear his secret alone.

Fuck, why was everything so complicated?

“Hyunbin found out he’s sick,” Youngjae said. If he was doing this, he needed to spit it out.

“The Nu’est kid?”

“None of them know—like no one but Hyunbin,” Youngjae said. Daehyun’s smile faltered. “He said it’s Hanahaki.”

“Wait, what?” Daehyun’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Excuse me?” 

“That’s what I said. But—” He gave Daehyun a quick summary of what Hyunbin had told him. “He didn’t even tell me his name, and he definitely didn’t mean to tell me he’s not promoting with Nu’est.”

Daehyun sighed. He stared out into his immaculate apartment. “I still don't--” He hands fumbled together. 

“Hyunbin made it sound like he loves another member.” Youngjae grimaced. Another similarity to Super Junior, but hopefully the stories wouldn’t end the same. It would be tragic for Nu’est to permanently lose a member after everything they’d done to keep going. “It wouldn’t help to tell them though. They don’t even see him.”

“You want to tell people?” Daehyun’s eyes widened; his volume increased. “If that gets out—Youngjae…” He thinned his lips. 

Youngjae rolled his eyes as though he didn’t also worry about that. “I’m not saying to post it online,” he said. “But Hanahaki—people like, die from that. Shouldn’t we tell someone?”

Wanna One was already overworked. Youngjae could remember Daehyun’s warring pride and anger after Daniel had debuted. It had been a bittersweet, nauseating swirl of emotions for him, his friend finally being acknowledged and doing so, so well, but also working with a company and conditions that were an awful parallel of everything they had once fought against. 

Hadn’t one of the members fainted recently? How was one of them dealing with Hanahaki on top of everything? 

Daehyun sighed. “Daniel would want to know."

“He should have his members supporting him.” Youngjae couldn’t imagine separating from his members, let alone dealing with something like Hanahaki all alone. 

“But we don't even know him. Should we really interfere?" 

That was the question, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the cross-group friendships mentioned are real! Im pretty proud of myself for not having to make any up to make the plot work tbh. Also don't worry this is the last scene with bap lol
> 
> Also super super special thanks to my friend [ Liv4Death](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liv4Death) :) She listened to me rant about this chapter for over an hour. She's actually also writing a Hanahaki fic but for Seventeen so you guys should check that out too if you know them!!


	6. Who Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d done a good job at hiding. 
> 
> Minki knew, and Hyunbin knew, but it was okay. It was only them. He could handle that, and it would be okay.

“We need to talk,” Minki said.

“Like us”—Aaron gestured between him and Minki—“or us?” His gesture encompassed a wider circle that was supposed to include Dongho and Jonghyun.

“With Dongho." Aaron hadn’t originally noticed, but now it was hard to miss Minki’s panic. His hair was ruffled from him messing with it, and not even his BB cream had managed to cover up the dark circles under his eyes. “I found out what’s wrong with Jonghyun.”`

“Really?” Aaron’s eyebrows rose. “Finally. Did you talk to him about it?”

Minki made a face. “Kind of? It’s—complicated.”

Aaron’s heart sank. “In what ways?”

“Not till—not till we get Dongho too. We should go to his studio. No one will overhear.” 

He’d put thought into that. Where they’d talk about it.

Aaron buried his questions. He wouldn’t push Minki now, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Hopefully these were dramatics; Minki did that a lot, right? Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. Except that wasn’t how this worked. Minki could overexaggerate, but not like this. He knew the lines they shouldn’t cross as well as anyone.

Minki didn’t bother to knock on Dongho’s door, and Aaron noted that Jihoon was in his studio across the hallway. He likely wouldn’t come over, but they’d have to keep an ear out for him. 

Assuming this conversation needed to be as private as its set up was. Aaron hoped not but predicted he shouldn’t bet anything on that. What could possibly be sensitive enough to warrant this?

The lights inside were dim, and Dongho hadn’t noticed them, still wearing headphones. Minki snuck up behind him, following the steps of a well-known game. He tapped Dongho's shoulder. 

Dongho pressed a hand against his heart. “Why do you always burst in here?” he complained. “You can text me first, you know?” He spotted Aaron, and his frown turned quizzical. “You're here too?” 

“We have to talk,” Minki said. “About Jonghyun. He told me what’s up last night.” 

Dongho pulled his headphones the rest of the way off. “And we need to do that now? Without him here?”

“I promised not to tell anyone.”

Warning bells rang in Aaron’s head. “Minki,” he started. “Are you sure about this?” If Jonghyun had chosen Minki to confide in, he shouldn’t break his trust.

“I can't be the only one who knows. It's too important." 

Aaron wasn’t about to stop him. He shared a glance with Dongho.

“It's not a big deal,” Dongho said. “It's not like we don't have any idea something's wrong, and it affects us.”

“It’ll be good to help him,” Aaron said. Assuming they could. The nudging guilt still didn't dissipate, but Aaron shoved it away. They were right, especially if it was serious. 

Minki grimaced. “He’s sick, and it’s a lot worse than we thought… I don’t know how he hid it for so long—”

“Minki.” Aaron rarely cut anyone off during a conversation like this. He preferred to let them get their thoughts out, but his heart pounded, and his head pounded, and this needed to end. “Tell us what it is, and then explain.” 

“Hanahaki. I saw him coughing up flower petals.” 

Aaron swallowed hard. “You saw him—” he echoed but didn’t make it through. "Come again?"

“There’s no way,” Dongho said. “When’d he have time to meet someone, let alone…? We’ve been so busy.”

“So what—I’m just fucking with you?” Minki leaned forward on the couch. His hands were clasped together. “You think I’d lie about something like this?” His voice grew sharper, louder.

Dongho took a breath to retort back.

“Of course not.” Aaron slipped in. “It’s just—a surprise. Hanahaki’s so rare—I mean, have you ever even heard of someone really having it?”

“Yeah, actually. My aunt. It’s supposed to run in my family and all that.” Minki frowned. “I should’ve realized sooner.”

It wasn’t his fault but that was a given. If anything, they shared the blame. Aaron murmured that to him, following whatever script people always used in situations like this.

“So say he does.” Dongho ignored the glare Minki shot at him for his lingering disbelief. “What then?”

“He wouldn’t even let me mention surgery.” Minki rested his cheek in his palm. His legs were crossed, his body folded in on itself. Aaron would have to make sure he slept tonight.

“Don’t tell me he’s set on loving them.” Dongho snorted. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s what I told him. But that can’t be it.”

Aaron was inclined to agree. Jonghyun was hopelessly selfless, his own wants and needs buried and buried and often forgotten.

 _I don’t know why I’m not getting better._ Jonghyun had frowned. He’d been so exhausted that day, only partially from his physical state. 

He’d been so against seeing a doctor.

“He doesn’t seem the type for love at first sight,” Aaron said. He tried to picture Jonghyun stuttering to a stop, staring at someone, red-faced like he was in a drama. It didn’t work. 

“Don’t use dramas for medical advice.” Minki rolled his eyes. “Hanahaki’s more related to stress. And genetics. Maybe someone in his family’s had it before?”

That didn’t matter all that much considering he currently had it. “Did he tell you who he, uh, loves?” Aaron asked.

Minki made a face. 

Aaron’s heart sank. “Oh god, it’s you.”

“What?” Minki’s eyes widened, his face flushing. “No! Seriously, definitely not. It’s someone from Produce. Someone he hasn’t seen much since.”

“He said that?” 

“He didn’t deny it. And he said it started happening back around then.”

Aaron’s eyebrows rose. “You’re saying he’s had Hanahaki for the past year, and we’re only just now noticing?”

“And that he had time to fall in love while we were all working our asses off.” Dongho shook his head. “There’s no way.”

Minki huffed. “I told you—Hanahaki’s related to stress. It’s not all strength of feelings; a lot of it’s whether your immune system’s down enough to not fight it off. That’s why it’s rare.”

“So—what?” Aaron asked. “Say Jonghyun was…attracted to someone there, and he was stressed. Would that be enough for it to last this long?”

_I don’t know why I’m not getting better._

Had that been a lie, or did Jonghyun not feel all that strongly about whoever had caused his illness? That seemed ludicrous--it was Hanahaki; of course Jonghyun had to love them. But Minki was right that dramas weren't good examples for real life, and if Jonghyun had fallen for someone during Produce, of all things, how much could he even love them? 

“I don’t know,” Minki admitted. “I only know the signs. You’re not really supposed to wait it out.”

Dongho leaned back in his chair. It squeaked under him. “Tell that to Jonghyun.”

“So what now?” Aaron asked. “Now that we know.” He needed to focus on something concrete. Guessing was exhausting. 

“Slip him Nyquil and take him to the hospital?” Minki crossed his arms. “What? He’s being an idiot.”

“I guess talk to him?” Aaron said. “Try to figure out what’s going on that he’s been like this.”

“The company’s going to have a fun time covering this up,” Dongho said. “Jonghyun’s been coughing for months now. If he’s in the hospital, there’s going to be rumors.”

Aaron swore under his breath. He hadn’t considered that.

“They’ll do damage control or something.” Minki didn’t sound all that sure. “I mean, this has to have happened before without it becoming a scandal. Plus people are more open now. Maybe it won’t be a huge deal—?”

“More open? Since when? Kim Heechul’s the only idol willing to even mention Hanahaki.”

He’d shamelessly opened up a world of old debates by releasing a song about it a couple years ago and then did it all again with another song too. But everyone knew Heechul got away with things like that because SM needed him more than he needed them. They, unfortunately, weren’t in the same position.

Theirs was a lot more similar to Super Junior’s back when the scandal actually happened, when SM called all the shots and eventually threw the member out of the group because of it.

Aaron wanted to believe Pledis wouldn’t do that, would never consider that, but he wasn’t quite overflowing with love and trust for them. Pledis would take whichever path saved them the most face.

He’d call it fifty-fifty, if the news got out. Aaron grimaced. The further the disease progressed, the harder it would become to hide. Jonghyun was out on camera right now, filming for some show. What if he started coughing? If someone saw?

At least they knew. Jonghyun had to be terrified—was that why he was avoiding the surgery? They could support him now.

And they were the only ones who knew. Aaron let out a breath that had locked in his throat ever since Minki first mentioned Hanahaki. It wasn’t too late. 

 

\--

 

“You look serious.” Seongwoo slid into the chair beside Daniel, his pitch rising into half-a-question.

“Oh, uh, yeah I guess.” Daniel didn’t look up from his phone, shoulders hunched over it. Seongwoo tilted his head and got a glimpse of a series of short messages. He didn’t try to read them, privacy and all that, but also because he couldn’t from his angle anyway. 

“What’s up?”

Daniel didn’t give a verbal answer, didn’t give an answer at all. Seongwoo furrowed his brow. He’d expected Daniel to smile and explain he’d gotten some new phone game and a certain level had proved a challenge.

This seemed like an actual thing.

On the other side of the room, Minhyun and Jaehwan were joking around. Woojin and Jihoon had gotten into some argument, and Daehwi faced away and talked with Jinyoung, clearly because he’d given up on Jihoon and Woojin. Seongwoo could go join any of them, get dragged into some random banter.

He wanted to go. He forced himself to stay. “Something’s wrong?” At least he didn’t sound as unenthused about dealing with problems as he felt.

Daniel finally looked up, but his eyes slid to something else behind Seongwoo. He resisted the urge to look behind him like he was in a horror flick. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

“You’re one to talk!” 

Despite the temptation, Seongwu refrained from letting him lighten the mood. He recognized deflection when he saw it. “Really, what’s up?” 

Daniel liked to don a strong front and act like he was all smiles. It was a funhouse-mirror version of exactly what made him such a lovable idol, that innocence front and cheerful exterior. Seongwoo shot it down when he used it for his personal life.

“What would you say if you know someone’s hiding an illness? Like, a really bad one.”

“Someone’s sick?” Seongwoo heard the words before he registered saying them. 

Daniel didn’t answer. What the hell?

“Talk to him, I suppose. Tell him off for hiding it, for one. But also—help.” Solid answer there. Seongwoo buried a grimace. He sucked at this stuff. He wasn’t some leader or anything. Jisung and Minhyun were welcome to all the responsibility with that; they were good at it anyway. 

But Daniel was his closest friend, so it didn’t work like that. Seongwoo had to try. 

“I don’t know if I can help.”

“Then tell me, and we’ll do it together. Or Jisung hyung, or Minhyun." You know, the ones who actually knew how to handle things. "You’re not alone.”

Daniel flinched at Seongwoo’s advice. Had it really been that bad? Shit.

“Just tell me,” he tried instead. “I can listen.”

Daniel looked past him again and spoke past him too. “Minhyun hyung.” His voice was a whisper, and Seongwoo recalled Minhyun and Jaehwan behind them. They were still speaking. Jaehwan’s voice was loud as always, and Minhyun was the only one who wouldn’t have told him to shut up by now. 

“Is this about the salt thing?” Minhyun hadn’t told them about his allergy. They’d found out when articles popped on the internet, and when Jisung had asked him about it, Minhyun only shrugged. When Daehwi had repeated the question, he’d apologized and said he hadn’t realized it was a big deal.

“No, it’s something else. But—it doesn’t make sense,” he admits. “I can’t believe it.”

Minhyun laughed from behind him. One of those obnoxious, open-mouthed laughs that could even be heard over the demons expelled from Jaehwan as he joined in. Sungwoon told them to shut up, and Seongwoo was pretty sure that turned into a wrestling match. He resisted the urge to face them. Daniel blatantly stared past him.

Somewhere along the way, he’d lost Daniel’s train of thought. Seongwoo grimaced. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either!” 

“Why is everyone here arguing?” Jihoon grumbled, as though he wasn’t the worst of them all. “I’m going to bed.” He brushed past Seongwoo on his way out. Seongwoo was pretty sure ‘going to bed’ meant gaming for a few hours, but it didn’t matter.

“Why do you think he’s sick?” Seongwoo said, his voice low. Short, sweet, and simple. Or at least Seongwoo thought so. 

Daniel still struggled. “My friend texted me he was.”

“How would he—they—know?” When he didn’t get an answer, Seongwoo continued, “if he’s sick we need to do something. You can’t hide it.”

“That’s the thing!” Daniel’s voice was too loud. Seongwoo blinked at him until he continued, voice now more subdued. “Daehyun hyung said Hyunbin told him. We haven’t seen Hyunbin in ages.”

“And he’s that sick?” A note of disbelief slipped into Seongwoo’s voice. Just how many people had this gone through?

He’d assumed at first Daniel meant someone had an unchecked sore throat. It wasn’t all that rare for them to hide such things; they were idols. But if the news had been passed around, it was something bigger.

“It’s—bad. Yeah.”

“What is it?” 

Daniel floundered for a moment. Seongwoo gave into the temptation to follow his gaze. Minhyun was sprawled across the couch, his legs in Jaehwan’s lap and his head in Sungwoon’s. Neither of them looked super happy about the arrangement, but Minhyun had a big grin across his face.

“Hanahaki. It’s Hanahaki.”

Seongwoo whipped around to stare at him. He would’ve laughed had Daniel cracked even the slightest smile. “You’re kidding right? That doesn’t happen to real people.”

“You sure about that?”

Minhyun caught Seongwoo’s eye and nodded at him, his smile turning quizzical. Seongwoo jolted.

“There’s no way,” he said. “He would’ve told us. Or we’d hear him coughing! Why would he keep it from us anyway?”

“Maybe he loves one of us?” Daniel grimaced. “What if it’s Jaehwan?” 

"No way." Those two were close, but he was certain there was nothing but friendship between them. Seongwoo had talked to Jaehwan about girls before, after all, and hell, even Minhyun occasionally joined in, despite having less experience with dating because of when he'd debuted. Unless he was covering it up that well, but that didn't fit in Seongwoo's head either. Sure, Minhyun was considerably more romantic about everything than him, but it was still hard to picture him coughing up petals, especially over Jaehwan. 

But still, what did he know? "There's no point in guessing anyway. Do you know much about Hanahaki?"

He and Daniel shared a grim look. “Maybe that’s where we should start?” Daniel said.

“Then just let him hide it?” Seongwoo leaned in closer and lowered his voice even further. “We can’t do that.”

“I don’t get why he’s keeping secrets. It doesn’t seem like him.” 

Seongwoo understood. Minhyun was a far cry from the cold, calculating image he’d once played for the cameras. But there was more than that. “I dunno. Minhyun—I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

Seongwoo wasn’t quite sure what he meant. He’d figure that out later, or something. “He gets a lot of hate, doesn’t he? Never talks about it.” That wasn’t what he wanted, not really, but it was along that line. There had been more than one time where Minhyun had comforted members who stumbled onto hate comments, but he was never fazed by his own.

Minhyun was one of the only members who’d maintained an unknowableness even after they'd become groupmates. His personality made a million times more sense than when they’d first met, but Minhyun was still good at throwing him off his feet. Too good, apparently. Seongwoo certainly hadn't seen this coming.

“So what do we do?” Daniel asked, and the pressure hit Seongwoo hard. Right. They needed to decide something. Here he’d thought he’d hard-passed on responsibility within the group.

Minhyun wasn’t stupid. Far from it, actually. If he was hiding something like Hanahaki, it was for a reason. They shouldn't go around his back. 

“I guess we talk to him?” Seongwoo said. “Soon.” He nodded, like he knew what he was doing. Daniel didn't disagree. "And don't tell anyone else yet. It's already bad other people know. We can't let this get worse." 

 

\--

 

Jonghyun leaned back in his seat, laughing quietly. It was good to laugh without a microphone on—for some reason, no matter how quiet he tried to make it, his laugh ended up horribly obvious whenever he did it on camera. 

He was happy to lean back, relax, and watch now. They were at a barbeque, and Lee Soogeun had put him in charge of cooking the beef. It would take a few more minutes before he had anything to do. 

The cast from the television special he’d filmed had invited him out with them, and Jonghyun had easily agreed. 

They’d become acquaintances, if not friends, over the past year, and wow that was surreal. If someone would’ve told him two years ago that he’d film a television special then go eat with comedians, Super Junior members, and other people he’d watched on television growing up, he would’ve laughed.

But it happened. Jonghyun was glad; he liked seeing them. It usually led to situations where he was the youngest by nearly a decade, but they were kind and funny and didn’t seem to mind that he preferred to fade into the background and listen more than speak. 

Jonghyun had never cared much about making friends. That sounded bad, but it was true. Most of his friendships had resulted from someone latching onto him and refusing to let go. He put effort into relationships, sure, but that was after they’d begun to form.

That was kind of what happened to him and why he was on so many shows. Lee Soogeun had taken one look at him on Night Goblin and adopted him. Jonghyun appreciated it, really. Soogeun treated him like his own child. 

And so Jonghyun had begun to enjoy it all. The shows were fun. 

“Donghae finally asked Jisun noona to marry him!” Super Junior’s Eunhyuk pressed both hands against the table. “He’s not announcing it yet, but she agreed to take him.” He screwed up his face like he couldn’t believe how that happened.

Jonghyun clapped with the others. A wide smile grew across his face. It was kind of cool to see older idols supporting their groupmates in an industry that turned negative whenever idols had lives. 

Seo Janghoon said something Jonghyun didn’t catch, but Eunhyuk’s response was overjoyed. “Oh, she kicks his ass all the time,” he said. “I told Donghae we’re all gonna sing ‘Oppa Oppa’ at the wedding for him.” 

Leeteuk pressed a hand against his mouth. “She told him she was going to ask in a month if he hadn’t manned up by then.”

Eunhyuk snorted. “And yet the idiot came crying to me beforehand, all worried she’d say no.”

Jonghyun laughed with the others. He’d never met Donghae; the guy wasn’t really known for appearing on variety shows, but Jonghyun had grown up watching Super Junior. Donghae and Eunhyuk’s dancing had inspired him back when he’d first become a trainee, and he’d covered their songs before.

It was surreal to hear his friends discussing his personal life, and even more surreal to be a part of the conversation.

“As long as he’s sure,” Janghoon said. 

“Just because you’re divorced—”

“I’m just saying—”

“We’re not all like you!” 

Jonghyun laughed with the others when Janghoon rolled his eyes at Eunhyuk. He leaned over to check the meat, moving it around over the grill. There was a lot of it; it would still need a bit more time. 

“How does it look? I’m starving.” Lee Soogeun spoke from across the table. 

“Still a few minutes.” Jonghyun didn’t look up. His own stomach growled. It smelled great. 

“Staring at it won’t make it cook any faster.”

Jonghyun could hear his smile. His own face reddened. “Ah, right.” 

“How have you been, Jonghyun? I see you more on television than in person these days.” Jonghyun’s heart did a happy bounce at the pride in his voice. He’d never expected Soogeun to care about him as much as he did. 

“We’re busy,” he said. “We're releasing a single in a few weeks, so a lot of recording. But that's good.”

“And stressful as always.” Leeteuk’s smile was very, very kind, and Jonghyun struggled to not look away. 

He’d grown used to seeing some Super Junior members—Eunhyuk and Heechul, mostly—but Leeteuk was different. There was something about looking the leader of one of the most successful and long-lasting groups in the eye that was always a challenge, to say nothing of how they’d originally met. 

Jonghyun tried to not think about that. It only brought back Produce 101 and Minhyun and everything he couldn’t think about now. Leeteuk likely didn’t remember anyway; Jonghyun had been one of many that day. 

“You know, there’s a good way to handle recording stress.” Eunhyuk’s smile was too big for Jonghyun to expect anything serious from him. He poured a shot of soju.

Drinking wasn’t Jonghyun’s thing—not because he didn’t like it or couldn’t take it, but more because drinking meant social situations and parties and those generally weren’t his thing. Still, he took the shot to the general laughter of the table. 

“Park Junjin sunbaenim told me almost the same thing a couple weeks ago,” he said. It was perhaps a little worrying that older generation idols kept suggesting for him to drink more, but it was all in good fun. 

“Now that’s someone who needs to get married,” Leeteuk said. “Someone has to keep him in line.”

“Could say the same thing about you,” Eunhyuk said. “You’re not much younger.”

Leeteuk shook his head. “Don’t remind me. Jonghyun, do yourself a favor and get married before you’re old. I’m too tired to meet people these days.” 

He took a beat too long to respond from the sudden inclusion in the conversation. His ears went red. “Maybe after my enlistment.” Even the military seemed forever away, let alone marrying. Jonghyun couldn’t imagine it. 

“That’s what we all say.” Eunhyuk shook his head. “Then it becomes ‘I’ll do it before I’m thirty-seven,’ and then you’re like Teukkie hyung and still alone.” 

“I don’t see you moving any faster.” 

“Maybe I’m just too dedicated to Super Junior.” 

Everyone laughed, ignoring Eunhyuk’s protests. “You make it sound like I don’t care about them,” he said. “Anyway, as long as I marry before Heechul hyung then I’m good.” 

Janghoon snorted. “You’re setting the bar low.”

“Are you saying our Heechul isn’t lovable?”

“I’m saying he’s not gonna settle down until someone special knocks him on his ass.” 

Jonghyun checked the food, cheering once he saw it was done. He took it off the grill, and they started eating. Conversation faded to small comments about the food. They hadn’t taken a break for food while filming, so none of them had eaten since that morning. 

Jonghyun waved off a few comments about his cooking skills, smiling and wishing he didn’t blush so easily when they thanked him. 

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to moments like these. It was so surreal. Good, but weird. Maybe with time, he’d learn to enjoy it even more.

Jonghyun smiled to himself. The future looked bright, and that was amazing. Nu’est had a future. Maybe one day they’d be like Super Junior, fifteen years in and still going, post-enlistment and still going, getting married and still going.

That was a good thought.

If someone had told him that two years ago, he wouldn’t have believed that. They had a future outside of disbandment. It had once been a distant dream.

One day he’d probably think the same thing about marriage or moving into his own apartment or anything like that. It would come. 

Jonghyun hid his grin behind a bite of food.

It would be strange, waking up to someone he loved in the mornings. But then again, Jonghyun wasn't a complete stranger to dating, even if he’d never gotten past the casual stage with anyone. Besides, he already woke up to a lot of people—everyone in their dorm, for one, and it wasn’t unheard of for the Seventeen members to sneak in either. 

Jonghyun didn’t like when they snuck straight into his bed too much. He tended to run hot, and bodies were warm and only led to him waking in the middle of the night, sweating and often trapped between a body and the wall. 

It still sometimes happened though, and well, different people, different responses. He couldn’t get angry at Minki, not when he remembered them latching onto each other as children, the two most prone to having nightmares. 

Same with Aaron. Jonghyun had woken up to him in his bed since before Aaron could explain exactly why he was there in Korean. It had been endearing back then, and Jonghyun didn’t mind it. 

It wasn’t a common thing for Dongho either, so when Jonghyun did wake up to him, he knew there was a reason. He couldn’t be annoyed with that.

It was Minhyun who never had an actual reason. 

Minhyun ran cold, and it was infuriating. Mostly because he enjoyed wrapping as much of himself around Jonghyun as he could, like Jonghyun was a heat pack or something. That only served to overheat Jonghyun faster, and then they’d both wake up covered in sweat.

Jonghyun would try to kick him out because they knew what would happen, but he'd give up and then Minhyun would get a rash from sweating so much, and he’d have the gall to pout about it until Jonghyun helped him put his special medicated lotion on wherever he broke out. 

Minhyun would be too much of a baby to even do where he could reach, and Jonghyun would start thinking maybe he did that on purpose because he wanted Jonghyun to touch him and take care of him.

And madness laid that way. The same madness that made him cough up flowers. The same madness that got him caught. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Yet here he was, in public, with Minhyun on his mind. 

He missed waking up to Minhyun. Missed him there, missed him in general. Jonghyun thinned his lips. This wasn’t the time for sad thoughts or Minhyun thoughts. Later. 

Jonghyun looked up when Eunhyuk passed the bottle of soju to him again. “You look too serious,” he said. Jonghyun winced. He wasn’t supposed to notice. No one was supposed to notice anything.

He took the shot. “Sorry, I’m tired today.” He pasted a smile on his face, but Eunhyuk gave him a knowing look.

“That’s fine,” he said.

Jonghyun slumped in relief. There weren't any cameras around, so no reason to pretend, even if he was still always pretending. Secrets. Always more secrets. 

But he’d done a good job at hiding. 

Minki knew, and Hyunbin knew, but it was okay. It was only them. He could handle that, and it would be okay.

That night he cocooned himself in blankets and pretended it was Minhyun’s stupidly long body that overheated him. 

Another secret, but it was another that no one knew. It couldn't hurt anyone but him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Heechul songs mentioned in this are Falling Blossoms and Ulsanbawi ^^ Not actually about Hanahaki ofc, but they worked well for the plot and are good songs so here we are. 
> 
> Oh I also lowkey made a twitter?? It's @brdbecca and is near empty currently bc idk how twitter works but I live there now too!


	7. Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How sick are you?”
> 
> Silence. Then, "excuse me?"

There was something about the finality of a final comeback that hurt.  Perhaps, you know, the final part of it.

Minhyun grimaced.  He was in the studio, and he was flat.  Again.  For at least the sixth time.  The composer overseeing their recording had gone from vaguely friendly with a side of ‘don’t waste my time, kid’ to outright threatening with ‘you’re wasting my time, kid’ on main.

“Sorry,” he said.  Again.  After he was flat.  Again. 

Minhyun could see Seongwoo peering through the window and knew Daehwi was just out of sight.  They’d split into groups to record, and Minhyun would push everything back if he kept fucking this up.

The composer hyung was different than the one from last time, but Minhyun had grown used to seeing different faces in the studios.  A little too used to it, actually.  He’d introduced himself twice to a poor noona and hadn’t even questioned her confusion until Daniel greeted her more comfortably. 

Minhyun tried the line again.  If he kept this up, they would give it to someone else. 

He hit the notes this time, at least.

“Again.” The hyung offered no advice.  Minhyun swallowed and nodded, desperate for water but unwilling to hold them up any worse. His head pounded with fatigue, and the sound of his own voice swirled through the air.  He’d heard it too many times, and now it echoed over the track.

Maybe he didn’t sound sincere enough?  This was a goodbye ballad; their very own Downpour, so to say. Minhyun chased after the emotions scattered through his head.  The goodbye meant a lot to him; he was glad the recording hyung refused to accept anything subpar. 

Now if only he could do better.

“Again.”

He’d dreamt last night, but his memories of it had become hazy.  It had been repetitive—he’d woken up late and had to get to the studio, but every door in the dorm had been locked, and all that red-tape they’d once filled it with had returned.  Every time he touched it, he appeared back into his bedroom, only more aware he was out of time.

There had been more, at some point, but he’d lost the rest of it.

“That one’s good.”

Minhyun sighed with relief.  “Thank you,” he said and rushed from the studio, head down.

“Seongwoo, you’re up.”

When Minhyun passed him, he could feel Seongwoo searching for his gaze, but he avoided it.

As a kid he’d loved those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books.  Still did, whenever he indulged himself.  He’d long surpassed the reading level of most, so he’d switched to reading them in Japanese, even though his Japanese skills had also improved past them with time. Aaron gave him one in English once, but Minhyun was still hopelessly lost with that language, so he hadn't gotten far.

Something about the power appealed to him.  Minhyun could choose option A and go to page so-and-so, or he could choose option B and go somewhere totally different.

(He could hear Seongwoo’s snort and a coughed ‘Hwang Emperor’ because they’d never let that go.)

Daehwi was curled up in a seat in the corner.  He’d drawn his knees to his chest, and Minhyun was silent beside him.  Minhyun hoped this wasn’t hitting him too hard. 

There was something very final about this whole final album before disbandment thing.

Daehwi watched the composer hyung.  Minhyun could say something to him (Option A) or stay quiet (Option B).  

“That’ll be you someday,” Minhyun said.  Option A it was; turn to page twenty-five.  “If you want it to be.”  Everyone had been so impressed with Daehwi: lyricist, composer, and only sixteen-years-old.  Minhyun had always thought Dongho and Jihoon had gotten an early start with it all; he could remember tiny, tiny fourteen-year-old Jihoon and fresh-faced, dark-hair-in-his-eyes Dongho vowing to compose songs for their own albums.

Daehwi could do the same one day.

But Daehwi shook his head. “I want to be on stage.”  There was a desperate note in his voice, and an imaginary clock ticked in the back of Minhyun’s head, like the sample Dongho had used for Dejavu.

“Both, then.  You wouldn’t be the first.”  Imagine that, choosing both options.  Who knew what page he’d go to then?  He’d have to decide soon, with the clock ticking like a bomb in the background.

“Have you ever composed before?”

“Nothing much.  Just messed around with it.”  Composing was different than singing.  It took an entirely different set of skills, knowledge of how to put chords together and how music theory worked. 

For all Minhyun had learned over the years, his eyes glazed over when he heard people—Dongho and Jihoon—get really into it.  He’d never chosen that path, never flipped to that page besides when he skimmed through everything at once.

Minhyun had better slow down.  He'd never been that fast at reading Japanese.

Daehwi hummed.  “You play piano, don’t you? You’d be good at it.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve practiced.”  Both piano and composing anything.  They were skills that went away so easily, fingers growing clumsy and chords striking an unhappy dissonance.  “Maybe someday.”

“Me too.”  Daehwi tilted his head to the ground.  “I haven’t been working hard enough.” 

The corners of Minhyun’s lips turned into a smile he hoped wasn’t overly inappropriate.  He’d spotted Daehwi curled up with his songwriting notebook only a week ago, and it wasn’t all that rare for him to mutter a phrase to himself over and over, singing under his breath and tapping beats out until he had an opportunity to write it down.

Sometimes he seemed so young, so worried that he was out of time.  Minhyun understood.  There was a reason clocks and bombs made the same sound.

“It’s not a race,” he said.  Daehwi looked up.  “You’re allowed to breathe sometimes.”

Daehwi muttered that ‘of course he knew that.’  Minhyun searched for more words. Something in Daehwi’s posture screamed at him, threw him back to a time where he’d had pink paint on his cheek and high hopes in his head.

Once upon a time he’d sat with a camera jammed up against his hands, and Minhyun had practiced and practiced until the heavy silver rings on his fingers didn’t affect the notes he played.  While Jonghyun punched and Dongho swung swords around, Minki had a photoshoot and Aaron leaned against a car, Minhyun only had the piano and his voice.

He’d be the innocent one, they said.  Simple and innocent; that was his concept.  He’d dressed in white and sang softly.

Minhyun stumbled back to the present.  Daehwi.  He was so amazingly talented for his age, so amazingly talented no matter his age.  Minhyun tried to mash words together, but his mind might as well have been a word search.

“Daehwi, you’re up.” He hopped to his feet, smiled, and that was the end of that.  Minhyun frowned after him.

Seongwoo stole Daehwi’s seat, sinking into it with a quiet groan.  “We’re on the struggle bus today.”

“Excuse me?” Minhyun’s eyebrows rose in time with the corners of his lips.  “We’re on what?”

“Have you seriously never heard that?  Go online sometime, will you?”

“I do—you know what, it’s not important.”

Seongwoo chuckled at his quick way of noping out of the bickering.  “Really though, you alright?”

“You’re the one on the struggle bus.”

“I watched you record too, remember.”

Minhyun grimaced.  He was right.  “It’s been a long day.”

“Minhyun—” Seongwoo cut off.  He clenched his hands into fists.  Minhyun blinked at his whitened knuckles.  What page were they on again?  He couldn’t remember.  “You can talk to us about anything.  You know that, right?”

Minhyun tried to not seem overly nonplussed.  “Of course,” he said. “Yeah.  Same to you.”

“You never do,” Seongwoo continued, like he never heard Minhyun speak.  They were most certainly on different pages.  Minhyun should wait and smile and try to ease whatever’s on Seongwoo’s mind, but the clock clicked in the head, and he’d just failed to comfort Daehwi.  He wanted to go home and flop into bed like he'd worked twenty-four hours straight.

Minhyun was silent.  Daehwi hit his first couple lines on the first try.

“Jinyoung thinks you’re not going to talk to us after we disband.”

“Excuse me?” Minhyun’s voice rose, and the composer hyung glanced at him.  His face colored with embarrassment as he muttered an apology, then anger as he faced Seongwoo.  He sat straight and tall in his chair.  Seongwoo matched his posture, but Minhyun still looked down at him. “What do you mean by that?”

Seongwoo raised his hands and rolled his eyes.  “Don’t act like it’s so shocking.”

“You think that little of me?” Minhyun gripped the edge of his chair.  He was being irrational, but the bombs in his head prevented him from slowing down, from rationalizing.

“You don’t talk to us about a lot of stuff.  Don’t answer texts sometimes.  It’s one thing while we live together, but when we don’t?”

“Maybe I just don’t like dropping shit on you.  You don’t deserve it.” 

“Then who does? Jonghyun? Would it have taken us six years to get to know you too?”

More like ten.  One whole decade, not that it mattered much because Jonghyun hadn't spoken to him in months. “That’s not the point. It’s me being professional and not dragging everyone down—”

“Except it’s not.  It’s cold.” Seongwoo shook his head.  “I know you would’ve preferred to be with them but—”

“Shut up.” Minhyun was shaking.  “You—it’s been over a year, Seongwoo.  Do you really think I don’t care about you?” His voice was a furious whisper, only an iron grip on his own emotions keeping his voice down.

Seongwoo stood. He gestured to the door with his head, and Minhyun followed him from the door.  He caught Daehwi’s confused look on the way out.  Once outside the studio, Seongwoo spun back around to face him.  He clenched and unclenched his fists.

“What do you do to prove us otherwise?  Everyone knows you’re the one who doesn’t talk about shit.  It’s one thing for me and Daniel and us older ones but Daehwi?  Jinyoung? Guanlinnie?  They think you’re gonna drop off the face of the Earth after this. Sungwoon hyung will be with Hotshot, and I’ll be God knows where, but we’re not the ones the kids think’ll abandon them.  It’s you.”

“Why?” Minhyun couldn’t be more baffled by it.  “I don’t talk about it because I don’t want to seem like that.  What would I sound like if I’m consistently talking about Nu’est? I’m—I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.”

“You’re hiding things,” Seongwoo said.  “Serious things.  If you trusted us, you’d talk.  Fuck, we’re lucky we found out at all.  What would you have done if we didn’t?”

“I just miss them?” Minhyun frowned.  “What’s so serious—?”

“How sick are you?”

Silence. Then, "excuse me?"

“You’re going to play dumb?  Even now?” Seongwoo laughed, and it bit through the air.

What the hell was happening? Minhyun opened his mouth but said nothing.

“Not everyone’s like you.  Most of us don’t even know when we’re debuting.  Fuck, Fantagio’s fucking falling apart, and I have no clue what’ll happen to me. Just because you’re able to leave and not look back doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that.”

Minhyun took a breath.  Seongwoo had looked away and was taking in sharp breaths through his nose.  He’d seen this before, in Nu’est and in Wanna One.

Disbandment was hard.  It was a Choose Your Own Adventure except you weren’t making the choice and you didn’t know what page you’d turn to after. Sometimes it was the end of the book, and there was no shot at a sequel.

Except not for Minhyun, not this time.  He had Nu’est waiting for him.  They couldn’t have made it more clear that there was an open space still ready for him there, a family ready to welcome him with open arms. Even with Jonghyun ignoring him, that was still true. (Or so Minhyun hoped, but Dongho and Minki and Aaron still seemed to miss him, so he was pretty certain.)

Seongwoo had none of that.  Fantagio was nearly in pieces, and his future was a terrifying, blank slate.  All opportunity and no promise, just like Produce 101 had once been for them. Option A: Disbandment and turn to page one. Option B: Disbandment and close the book entirely.

“You’ll be okay,” Minhyun said.  His voice softened, but Seongwoo still refused to look at him.  “I know it’s scary—”

“I don’t need you to patronize me,” Seongwoo muttered.  “Besides—this isn’t what we’re talking about.”

But it was.  Seongwoo had lashed out, but Minhyun recognized a deflection when he saw it.  How many times had Minhyun seen this before?

“It’s okay to be scared.  This isn’t easy.”

“Shut up,” Seongwoo snapped. “That’s not what matters.”

“It’s okay to let it out.  Seriously.” Minhyun said.  “We all care about you.  And you don’t have to worry about me abandoning any of you.  I’ll still be around, no matter what.”

He pulled Seongwoo into a hug, and Minhyun ignored the faint tremors running through him.  It wasn’t easy being the happy mood-maker all the time, the jokester of the group.  Minhyun was glad he’d opened up about it, even if he’d accused Minhyun at first.

When Daehwi opened the door a moment later, he joined in too.

 

**Rewind**

 

It’s overcast and misty, the sky unable to decide whether to clear up or to storm.  Water squishes in Minhyun's shoes with each step, and his feet drag from the extra effort it takes to communicate in Japanese.

Or maybe he’s tired from the acting.  Hanae told him he needs to not look so tense, that he’s doing well, but the lines on Minhyun's forehead may as well be permanent.

He’s no actor and a relatively new Japanese speaker, but here he is, one of the main characters in a Japanese movie.  Minhyun drops his eyes shut.  He’d been too excited to sleep the previous night, his heart pounding well into the early hours of the morning.

Jonghyun’s on camera now, so Minki joins Minhyun with the equipment under the tarp.  “You’re doing well,” he says, and the Korean’s a relief.  Their manager had suggested they only speak in Japanese to improve their skills, but Minhyun’s certain he can’t string together three words right now.

“I keep stuttering.”

“That’s cause you have all the lines.  I just have to be sad.”  Minki gives him his best mournful look, and sure enough, it’s what he’s been doing the whole time.

Minhyun laughs without warning, then cuts it off before it’s caught by the microphone.  They aren’t filming yet, only a smaller camera recording Jonghyun and Hanae’s behind-the-scenes interactions. It pans towards them, but Minhyun pretends he doesn’t notice.

Hanae smacks Jonghyun in the chest with her journal, and Minhyun presses his lips together when Jonghyun laughs awkwardly, his hand covering his heart.  “He’s cute,” Minhyun says.

“He’s awkward, you mean. She’s supposed to be his girlfriend.” 

The filming begins, and Hanae hits Jonghyun with her notebook.  He grabs it, tosses the pages in the air, and hugs her.

“This is just hard to watch,” Minki says.  Minhyun claps once the scene ends, and he laughs when Jonghyun hugs her a little tighter in apology.  It’s such a Jonghyun thing to do, and even though Minhyun can’t hear him, Jonghyun's embarrassment is as clear as if he'd said it.

He tilts his head down, and Minhyun stares after him with a smile.

“Minhyun, Minki!” It’s Aaron.  He comes up behind them but doesn’t fit under the tarp.  His umbrella nearly obscures his face from Minhyun’s view.  “Are you two ready?  Once Jonghyun’s done we’re going to work on lyrics for Cherry.”

Minhyun’s face scrunches up like he smells something nasty.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Aaron says.  “I’m merely the messenger.”

There’s nothing wrong with Cherry; Minhyun enjoys the song, even if it’s been strange to have such a small hand in their own music.  He’s grown used to Dongho composing and them all working on lyrics together, even if they don’t always make it into the finalized version.

They’d recorded the Japanese version, and that had gone fine.  It’s the second version, an English version, that’s making his life difficult.  Japanese is one thing; English is totally different.

“I’m ready,” Minhyun says.  “Jonghyun should be done soon too.”

Across the field, Jonghyun tosses Hanae’s notebook pages into the air and forces her into another hug.  They hold the position for a few extra seconds until the ‘cut!’ Jonghyun apologizes once more. 

The director approaches them, and Jonghyun raises both hands into the air, fists closed and elbows locked.  Success.  Minhyun smiles after him.  Jonghyun’s hair flops in his eyes, and the misty rain picks up into a drizzle. 

They make their way over. 

“We’re finished,” Jonghyun says.  He starts in Japanese, then stutters and repeats it in Korean.  Minhyun relates.  He’s tired enough that his mind lets out a resounding ‘nah’ when he hears any Japanese not directly spoken to him.

“Are we ready then?” It’s not particularly cold out, even with the rain, but a chill had started seeping into Minhyun’s shoulders and arms.  He’ll enjoy going back indoors, even if it means frustrating, painstaking English practice.

They say their goodbyes to the director and crew and meet their manager by the street. They pile into his van.

“Thank god that’s over.” Jonghyun’s beside him.  He drops his head onto Minhyun’s shoulders.  “It took me forever.”

“You did well,” Minhyun says, simply.  “It looked good.”

“Why am I the unlikable one?” He speaks into Minhyun’s shoulder. Minhyun feels his lips move over his sweater.  “I want—”

“Could be worse,” Minki says.  “You could be the traumatized one.”

“Or have no parts at all.”  Dongho doesn’t sound resentful over it, more sheepish.  They’d intended for him and Aaron to do more in the movie, but they struggled with Japanese too much for any large roles.

Minhyun loops an arm around his shoulders.  “Think of it as, like, novel or something.”  That’s what he’s been trying to do.  One day they’ll look back on this and be like ‘remember that time we filmed a movie in Japan?  Wasn’t that weird?’  It’ll be a fun memory then.

“Come again?”

“You’re annoyingly likable,” Aaron says.  “This is your chance to see what it’s like being the rest of us.”

Jonghyun laughs. “You’re all likable though!”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing an overly likable person would say.” 

Minhyun squeezes Jonghyun’s shoulder.  He peers up at Minhyun.  “I like Jiwoo.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“No, it’s gotta be hard being in love like that, right?  Two different people, but you can’t have one of them.”

“He shouldn’t have told Sana about it.”

“But that’s lying, isn’t it?” Minhyun says.  “You should be open about how you feel.  Otherwise, no one can help you, and you bottle it all up.”

“‘You?’” Jonghyun echoes.  “You realize I’m not him, right?”  His lips curl up, and he sets a hand on Minhyun’s arm. 

“Shush.” Minhyun dips his shoulder until Jonghyun groans and sits up. Minhyun’s not exactly sure whether he’d meant to refer to Jonghyun or not.  Jonghyun may not be in love, but he’s certainly one to bottle things up.

They fall into silence, and it lingers until they’re inside, curled up on the floor of a studio.  The building’s as foreign as everything here, but they’re working through it.  First Japan, then China, and now Japan again.  Minhyun hopes this year he’ll get to spend Christmas with his family, but that’s looking less and less likely. 

He stares at his lyrics sheet.  The letters on it swirl together, and his notes and phonetic spellings of English words fill the margins.  It blurs until all he can see is the orange highlighter outlining his lines. 

Jonghyun’s arms wrap around his knees, his paper inches from his face.  Aaron reads a few of Dongho’s lines, repeating certain words and listening to Dongho mimic them.

Minhyun mumbles under his breath, wincing when the words are wrong even to his ears. 

His eyes burn.  He closes them, but the feeling persists.  His shoulders slump forward, and he’s cold, and he misses Korea, and—

A warm arm presses against his.

“Don’t die on us now,” Jonghyun says.  He smiles, and it sprinkles quiet relief through Minhyun, dislodges some of the pressure in his chest.  “You look ready to drop.”  Jonghyun’s hand rests on his shoulder, then tickles the back of his neck.

“No promises,” Minhyun murmurs.  He leans his head forward, but Jonghyun moves away. 

“You sound good,” he says.  “You’ve got the ‘cherry’ down.”

Minhyun screws his face up.  “Got a lot more words than that, though.”  Jonghyun’s lyric sheet is face-up on the floor.  A lot of lines are highlighted in pink, but he’s not doing all of them.  Aaron’s doing the faster rap, as it had given Jonghyun enough problems in Japanese, let alone English.

Unsurprisingly, it’s hard to rap in a language you don’t know.

Hard to sing, too, hence Minhyun's current problems.

“Let’s switch parts,” Minhyun says.  “You can do all mine.”

Jonghyun snorts.  “Do we want everyone to hate it?”

“You’re really not bad,” Minhyun says. “And I can rap.”

“That’s what’ll make it bad.” Minki leans over.  “Jonghyunnie’ll be good, and you’ll ruin it.”

Minhyun tries to smack him, but he slides out of the way. “I’m a great rapper,” he says, then in English,  " _it's like paradise.  Don’t worry."_ They're the only lines he remembers from Jonghyun's rap, and the words are thick and uncomfortable in his mouth. “Aaron hyung, that was good, right?”

“What?” Aaron looks up, and Minhyun repeats them.  “Will you work on your own lines?”  He’s a little exasperated with them.  Minhyun gets it.   Once upon a time, their situations were flopped, except Aaron had tried much harder to learn Korean than they’d ever tried with English.

He holds in hands up in fake innocence.  “Alright, alright.”  Minhyun tries to catch Jonghyun’s eye, a wide smile growing across his face.  Jonghyun has his head down, peering at the words on the page. His voice is quiet, the words jumbled up enough that Minhyun has no clue what he’s saying.

When Jonghyun looks up, he’s got his highlighter in his mouth.  Minhyun laughs, surprised.  “What are you doing?” he asks.

Jonghyun spits the highlighter out.  His ears redden.  “Shut up, it’s for pronunciation.  Hyung told me to try it.”

Minhyun laughs again.  Jonghyun throws the highlighter at him.  He sticks it in his own mouth, ignoring Jonghyun’s wordless protest.  _“Don’t worry,”_ he says again, though it comes out unintelligible.  _“It's like Paradise. Don’t worry.”_   Minhyun thinks that's Aaron’s line in this version, but it had been an English line in the Japanese version too, so Jonghyun had practiced it over and over, until it was perfect. 

Jonghyun lunges towards him, and Minhyun gasps when he can’t catch himself.  He falls back, his elbow striking the floor.  “Ow,” he whines, and the marker falls from his lips.  Jonghyun’s got half his weight on Minhyun’s chest, his knee pinning one of Minhyun’s arms to his side and his hand on Minhyun’s shoulder.

He wipes the marker on Minhyun’s shirt and sticks his tongue out.  Minhyun crosses his eyes back at him. 

 _"Don't worry,"_ he says, one last time. He forgets what it means, but it sounds cool rolling off his tongue. Jonghyun rolls his eyes.

 

\--

 

Sweat ran down Jonghyun's face and absorbed into his shirt, adding to an already growing stain.  He was lucky he'd been smart enough to wear old clothes today. Their choreographer was ruthless when teaching them new dances, and they only had a couple weeks until promotions for the comeback began. Jonghyun had expected to struggle today.

They were out of time.  He sucked in another lungful of air, only to cough it out.  Progress had been slow already; he couldn’t hold it back any further.

“I’m going to get water.”

“Wait—” Jonghyun began, but the door had already closed behind Aaron.  He gritted his teeth.  What the hell was that?  He mumbled an apology to their choreographer because really, this was taking longer than it should've, and followed Aaron.

Aaron stood at the water fountain, cradling his half-full bottle.  A growing portion of Jonghyun wanted to lash out, to demand what the hell Aaron was doing, but his reason warred at it.  Jonghyun knew Aaron.  He wasn't one for irrationality and snapping at him wouldn’t help anything.

“Are you okay?” Jonghyun asked instead.  His tone could've been kinder, but at least he didn't sound overly annoyed.  “We need to get started again.”

Aaron jumped when Jonghyun spoke.  He fumbled with his bottle.  “I’m good,” he said. “Just needed a drink.”

“We had a break not too long ago.”

Minki had pushed for that one, and Jonghyun had frowned but agreed.  They did need to stop sometime, and for some reason, this dance was taking forever.  Jonghyun couldn’t just delay till they were done, not when they were already sweating puddles.

“I didn’t realize how low my bottle was.” Water sloshed around as he waved it.

Jonghyun breathed out his nose harshly enough for it to be audible.  Aaron avoided his gaze.  “What’s going on, hyung?” he asked. “You’re not telling me the truth.  Do you not want to do this?”

“Of course I do!” Aaron capped off his bottle. There was a pause, then finally, “you need to rest.”

“What?”

“You’re sick, and someone’s got to make sure you take enough breaks.”  Aaron set his jaw.  “You don’t rest enough.”

“Is that really what this is about?” Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut.  He spun around and walked back towards the practice room.  Aaron grabbed his arm.  “Let me go.”

He’d expected Minki to confront him again, to bring it up or at least act overly concerned for him.  And he had, to a degree.  Jonghyun hadn’t expected the others to join in too.  Warning bells rang distantly in his head, but there was no way Minki told them, right?  Minki had to know how much that would’ve hurt him.

Jonghyun wouldn’t mistrust him.  He couldn’t do it. Minki had promised him.

“We’ve all practiced through colds before. I get you’re concerned, but I’m not a kid.  You don’t need to baby me.”

“You’re not taking care of yourself,” Aaron said.  “And it’s not just a cold.”

Jonghyun’s heart froze.  He pulled his wrist out of Aaron’s grip and spun on his heel.  Aaron didn’t try to stop him.

“We’re starting again now.” Jonghyun heard the door he’d dropped thud against Aaron’s palm.  Their choreographer was working with Dongho and Minki.  He looked up at Jonghyun's brusque tone. “I mean, once you’re done—”

“We’re ready,” Dongho said.  “Are you—?”

“Then let’s start.” Jonghyun’s hands were shaking.  If Aaron knew, then Dongho did too.  Minki danced, eyes locked on the mirror. 

Jonghyun tried to calm his expression before facing their choreographer.  He didn’t need to deal with Jonghyun’s bad mood, especially not after dealing with them for the past hours.

“We’ll start at the bridge,” he said.

Jonghyun nodded and flipped positions with the others.  His rap verse was in the bridge, and when they started again, it was his own words playing.

It sounded good.  He was proud of his lyrics and proud of the song overall.  Not to mention they nearly did have the dance down.  If they stopped taking breaks, it shouldn’t take much longer at all.

Practice became a repetitive series of “again.”  Again.  Again.  Their choreographer hyung offered few corrections, only a couple barked commands.

His job was to teach them the steps.  Once they knew those, Jonghyun would take it from there.  They’d iron the dance out, ensure their moves matched and everything worked.  Finally, the backup dancers would join them.

It was a lot for two weeks, but they’d had worse before.  Jonghyun did the dance again, first doing the steps slow and hitting each position.  He could speed it up later.  Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he blinked and shook his head.  His chest heaved, and spots danced through his vision.  Somehow the sweat made his skin clammy, like his body warred between hot and cold.

It was nothing new, characteristic of such a practice, but Jonghyun’s limbs also shook and trembled as he continued.  His head spun, and his focus drifted too easily, leaving him to shake his head hard to summon it back.

He sighed in relief once their choreographer finally deemed them good enough to work on it on their own and left the practice room.

Jonghyun turned to the side to cough, scooping up his water from where it leaned against the mirror.  He took a long sip, and some spilled down his shirt.  Eyes closed, the room dipped around him. He stumbled and planted a hand flat against the mirror, sinking down until his butt hit the ground.

“Jonghyun?” Minki dropped in front of him.  He gripped one of Jonghyun's hands.

“What are you doing?” Jonghyun’s shoulders trembled, and his lungs couldn’t take in air correctly.  He needed space.  Minki had to move back.  “Let—go.” His voice faded in the middle.

“What’s wrong?  Are you okay?” Minki was too close.  Aaron crouched next to him, and Jonghyun stiffened.

“Get away,” Jonghyun said. “I’m just tired.  It took a long time.” His voice grew stronger, but they didn't back down.

“You should rest,” Aaron said.  His eyebrows scrunched together.

Sweat blurred Jonghyun’s vision, but Aaron’s suggestion had him clambering back to his feet.  Rage boiled within him, bubbling up.  He took a deep breath but coughed the air out.

“I’m fine.  Leave me alone.”  Jonghyun shook Minki off him.

Aaron blocked his way.  “You’re not.”

“How do you know?” Jonghyun dug his nails into his palm. 

Dongho groaned. “I’m sick of side-stepping around this.”  He finally joined the others.  Jonghyun wanted to run past them, to hide.  He leaned against the cool mirror and shivered, hot and cold.  “You’ve got Hanahaki.”

Jonghyun opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.  He breathed through his nose, and the air expelled as though shot from a canon.  He did it again to no avail.  There was no breath in his lungs. 

His anger stirred again, and this time it came as a relief, an escape.  As long as he wasn’t crying, he was fine.  Jonghyun set his jaw.  “So you told them.”  His voice fell flat, and with his hands clenched against his sides, he could finally meet their eyes.  Minki leaned away. 

“And that’s why you kept asking for breaks today?  For me?” His voice rose.  “We wasted hyung’s time.”

None of them spoke, and Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut.  Something hard and heavy settled in his chest.  “I can’t be here right now,” he said.  He pushed past them.  “Keep working.” 

Jonghyun hesitated by the door.  They’d all stormed out before; it happened.  But the silence behind him had guilt crushing his heart.  His hand stopped on the doorknob.  They were all staring at him. But Minki had told them everything, had told them the only secret Jonghyun was willing to do anything to protect. They all knew.

“I’ll be back tonight." The door shut behind him.

Jonghyun stuck his hands in his pockets and walked down the hallway.  He made it around the corner before he leaned against the wall.  His hands covered his eyes, and he hid from the world, right in the company building.

They knew.  All of them knew. He locked his fingers together to stop them from trembling.  Silent tears ran down his cheeks, following tracks that must be permanent by now.  He’d never cried so frequently before, but everything kept getting worse right when it appeared to get better. Jonghyun should've known better than to trust Minki--except no, that wasn't right. Minki was one of the four people he trusted most in the world, was up there with Jonghyun's family members. But he'd still told everyone. Jonghyun's lips trembled, and he pressed them together until they hurt.

He wiped his tears away and pressed his palms into his eyes.  Gaze on the floor and hands in his pocket, he wandered towards the oldest practice rooms, the ones mostly used by trainees.  Jonghyun passed a group of them and smiled, but it was tight.  He gave them the bare minimum response when they bowed to him.

The room he entered had a girl in it, but she took one look at him and hurried out.  Jonghyun grimaced.  He hadn’t planned to ask her to leave, would’ve just found a different room, but he was glad she did.  This was the room he wanted.

His hand trailed along a familiar crack in the mirror.  They’d told him in 2011 that they planned on replacing the glass soon.  This was the room he’d spent the most time in pre-debut.  He recalled the days where he trained alone, where he learned dances then perfected them with no one to work with because he was the only male trainee there.

Dongho and Minki joined, and then Minhyun and finally Aaron.  Others too.  Seungcheol and Mingyu and Jihoon.  But at the start, it was only him. That was back when he'd never needed to be a leader, when Hyerin and Jinah took care of him because he was young and cute and naive. Young and cute and naive enough to believe the Pledis scout who'd approached him outside his middle school and asked, "do you want to be a celebrity?"

Jonghyun didn’t have the music with him, but he practiced anyway.  It bounced through his head, and he danced until it grew confusing, until he’d heard beats that didn't exist too many times to remember the song accurately.  His breath ripped out from his throat, chest heaving. He'd forgotten his water bottle. 

The room swooped around him, and Jonghyun’s palm hit the ground.  He gaped at it, at the pain from striking the floor.  Jonghyun had hardly registered falling, only the nauseating spin of the room around him.

He pulled himself over to the mirror, not trusting his legs under them.  His hand hurt, his palm bright red.  Jonghyun rested his head against the mirror, and sweat stuck his hair to his forehead.

His eyes fell shut, and at some point, he must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, Jonghyun was disoriented and groggy. Someone had draped a thin blanket over him, and his neck hurt. His back protested when he moved. His phone displayed 2:54 AM and several missed texts and calls.

From Dongho: _"youll miss dinner if ur not back soon."_

From Aaron: _"theres chicken in the fridge."_

From Minki: _"come home."_

Jonghyun set his phone down and dropped his head onto his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, long chapter ^^ But I really like this one!!! Thanks to all those who leave kudos and comments! Oh also the movie mentioned in the flashback is Their Distance and ofc the song is Cherry.


	8. Ask Us Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was right, and Jonghyun hated it. “They won’t find out.”
> 
> “You’re getting surgery without informing your company? That’ll get you kicked out.”
> 
> He was right again, and Jonghyun hated it even more.

Jonghyun had a long-sleeve shirt on, but he was still shivering. He crossed his hands in front of him to keep his limbs close to his body.

“So respectful,” Kim Heechul said. He laughed at Jonghyun’s stammered response. “It’s been a minute, Jonghyun. How’ve you been?” They’d just walked onto the Knowing Brothers set. The cameras were rolling, and the four of them were dressed as caricatures of young students.

Jonghyun smiled. He couldn't lean back, lest he end up with chalk dust on his back. “I’ve been good. You?” He glanced subtly to the side. Aaron was next to him, then Minki, and finally Dongho. Jonghyun had barely spoken with them in the past week, but the cameras were on, so any personal arguments were turned off. This wasn't the first time they'd gone on camera while pissed at each other.

During one of their Japan tours, Minhyun and Minki refused to speak to each other offstage, and once they'd all pissed Aaron off so badly he didn't say a word to them for nearly three weeks (which they had deserved, really). It was just something that happened when you spent most waking moments with the same people. They were professionals; it was no big deal.

“Please introduce yourself,” Hodong said, and Jonghyun led their greeting. The show continued, and Jonghyun let himself fade into the background, despite Heechul’s attempts to pull him into the conversation.

They’d given him a strong cough-cold medicine before the filming began, but it had done little except make Jonghyun move through molasses. His mind ran in incessant circles, and he couldn’t completely swallow the rasp in his voice. Still, as long as he took frequent breaks for water, he’d do fine. That was better than he’d been previously.

Regardless, the urge to cough already built up in his throat. He swallowed the tickle. The last thing he needed was criticism over appearing on television while sick.

It wasn’t long until they were seated beside different MCs, preparing to answer each other’s questions. Aaron walked to the stand, and Jonghyun reminded himself to drop the honorifics. That was always the most difficult part of this show; at least this time it was Aaron and not Hyuna.

“When I first moved to Korea, something surprised me more than anything. What was it?” Aaron swung the toy hammer they’d given him through the air like the loop-de-loop of a rollercoaster.

And so the guessing began. As always, it started off all over the place, but this time it narrowed down quickly.

“Ah, I know!” Soogeun said. “How young the other trainees were. They were all children.”

Aaron shook his head. He bopped Soogeun lightly. "That's getting there..."

The guesses continued, everything from being surprised by how cute all the other trainees were (Minki, please) to thinking about how he wanted to spend more time with the female trainees (Heechul…).

“It surprised you how close they all were?” Kyunghoon tried.

Aaron pointed at him with the hammer and jumped up and down. “That’s so close!”

Young, eighteen-year-old Aaron jumped into Jonghyun’s mind, with all his awkwardness and uncertainty. “I’ve got it!” Jonghyun raised his hand. Aaron spun around and gestured at him. “How touchy we were.”

“Ding!”

Jonghyun cheered as Heechul slapped his back a few times. It startled a cough out of him, but Jonghyun hid it as a reaction to the smacking. Soogeun criticized Heechul for hitting so hard, and Jonghyun laughed, waving off his defense, and directed the focus back to Aaron.

“When I first came, I didn't speak Korean,” Aaron said. “So I was very awkward with all the other trainees. But Ren”—He gestured to Minki, who suddenly looked a bit worried—“wanted to know me better.”

Minki buried his face in his hands, and Jonghyun remembered the story the same moment Dongho did, if the sound of him giggling was any indication. He covered his mouth to bury his own laughter.

“I was showering, and Ren pulled back the curtain, and when I screamed, he told me to be quiet and got in with me.”

“I wanted to get closer with him! Our company didn’t have many male trainees, and he was the only one I didn’t know well.”

“He picked the bathroom lock.”

Jonghyun and Seungcheol had heard Aaron’s scream. At the time none of them knew him all that great because he'd only been a trainee for a few weeks. Jonghyun had run over to see if he was okay, and Minki had answered that Aaron was fine and to go away.

His throat burned with the memory, and he jerked back to the present before he got too deep into it. Jonghyun's arms were wrapped around his middle, and he loosened them with a grimace he hid from the cameras.

Hopefully, that wouldn’t make the final cut.

“When we first debuted—” Aaron began his second question.

“Why are all your questions from so long ago?” Minki asked. Jonghyun could picture his exact body language as he said it, eye-roll and everything.

Aaron mimed smacking him with the hammer. “Quiet,” he said. “When we first debuted, I ran into Heechul in the bathroom before our debut stage. He told me off for something. What was it?”

Heechul’s jaw dropped. They’d planned out the questions together, so Jonghyun had known this was coming, but regardless, watching the Knowing Bros cast react was fun.

“Were there other members with me?” Heechul asked. He laughed again, incredulous. “What year was this?”

Jonghyun remembered this one well. It had upset Aaron at the time; really it had scared all of them. Heechul and Yesung had been in the bathroom, and Aaron hadn’t greeted them. They’d called him out for being disrespectful.

Funny how things turned out in the end, where Aaron could retell this story in front of Heechul.

The guessing went its usual messy route, covering everything from Heechul telling Aaron he looked too pretty—Heechul stood and threatened Janghoon for that one—to Heechul telling Aaron off for taking too long to pee.

It took a few rounds of guesses and a couple hints for them to finally get it. Heechul only did after Aaron admitted Yesung was also there, and that he’d started the conversation.

He told Aaron that that was defamation and absolutely a situation driven by Yesung’s involvement.

“He says that because Yesung’s not here to defend himself,” Hodong said. He laughed when Heechul whirled on him.

This was a good day. Jonghyun liked doing variety appearances with the entire group; it put less pressure on him to represent Nu’est and himself and make a name for them. The other members always did their thing and shone and let Jonghyun fade into the background.

Maybe in a different group, it would seem like he was walked on, his personality not dominant enough to reach the foreground, but it wasn’t that at all.

Jonghyun blinked as the cameraman signaled a cut. He hadn’t expected one so early.

“We’re taking a small break,” the staff announced. “We’ll start again in ten minutes.”

This was probably a good thing. Jonghyun still had a cough sneaking up his throat. Ten minutes would give him time to get it from his system, chew on a few cough drops, and drink some water.

He hurried to the bathroom. The switch from filming to freedom had flicked a switch, and Jonghyun could feel it building up. He grimaced; he might even cough up flowers this time.

Sure enough, it ended with a single full flower in the toilet. The bathroom door opened, and Jonghyun thanked anyone listening that whoever it was hadn’t entered earlier.

His throat burned. The sickly-sweet smell from the flower rose around him and stung his eyes, but hopefully it wouldn’t cling to his clothes too badly.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to get to makeup, so they could redo whatever he’d messed up. The sooner he got out, the sooner he could go home and rest.

Burying the urge to rub his eyes, Jonghyun opened the door.

Heechul was in the bathroom.

“Ah, hyung. Were you waiting? Sorry.” Jonghyun’s words were jumbled and quick. Heechul didn’t seem to notice.

He was pale. Pale and wide-eyed. Jonghyun had never seen him startled. He fidgeted and debated running for the door.

Except he needed to wash his hands. Jonghyun went to the sink.

“Do you smell that?” Heechul asked.

Jonghyun jolted and directed his attention towards the suds on his fingers. “What?”

“The flowers.” Heechul sounded a little too sure of himself.

Jonghyun reflex swallowed, like that would keep them in his throat. “Perfume, maybe?” His voice was weak.

“Yeah, maybe.” Except the way he said it made it clear he knew that was bullshit.

The water was still running but the soap was gone. Jonghyun turned the knob to stop it.

How could he have been so stupid? This was a place he couldn’t be caught, and he’d gone and alerted Kim Heechul of all people.

Jonghyun’s heart plummeted. Kim Heechul. The same one who’d written songs about Hanahaki. Fuck, how could Jonghyun have forgotten? He should’ve been more careful.

“I don't think it's anything.” Jonghyun had never been all that great at lying but especially not now. His voice shook.

Heechul nodded like nothing was strange. He’d calmed down, and Jonghyun didn’t dare look closely enough to see if he was only hiding his reactions. “You should tell someone about it. Before your company finds out.”

Minki had already made certain that the whole group knew. Besides— “Pledis allows dating.” Pledis wasn't SM.

“They all say that until something actually happens. Look at Hyuna.”

He was right, and Jonghyun hated it. “They won’t find out.”

“You’re getting surgery without informing your company? That’ll get you kicked out.”

Heechul was right again, and Jonghyun hated it even more. He didn’t have an answer, but that was okay because Heechul didn’t wait for one.

The door shut, final as a period, behind him.

Jonghyun looked in the mirror. His makeup was fine. It kept his face from appearing overly pale from what had just happened, but nothing could stop the shaking in his hands. He gripped the edges of the sink and gulped down a few breaths.

Jonghyun had never expected Heechul to react so strongly to it all. He’d been so startled—Kim Heechul, of all people. It wasn’t like he’d ever had Hanahaki; he’d had a bandmate who did. No matter how close they were, that shouldn’t have been enough to recall the scent after a decade.

He’d recognized it immediately. Jonghyun's knuckles turned white as he gripped harder.

What did this mean for him, for his members? The scent had gone from nice to overwhelming months ago to Jonghyun, and his members also found it strong and unpleasant. Would it follow them like it had Heechul?

Jonghyun had been functioning on the belief that if he kept his secret, and if he didn’t get himself thrown out of the group, then no one would get hurt. Well, except him, but that one didn’t matter because they’d be okay.

Minki. Dongho. Aaron.

Minhyun.

Heechul had made it clear who he'd been in Super Junior's situation. His songs were about learning too late that his friend loved him.

Was Jonghyun doing the same thing to Minhyun? He was protecting him, not giving him extra shit to deal with. That wasn't supposed to hurt him, too, or if it did, then it was supposed to be nothing, a light smudge rather than the smear of black suffocating Jonghyun.

They hadn’t spoken in months; Jonghyun might be wallowing in self-pity, but he wasn’t too dense to recognize Minhyun must feel hurt. This was the longest they’d gone without talking since he’d become a trainee.

Jonghyun had a full screen of texts from him that he’d never responded to. He’d ignored his calls.

Eventually, Minhyun had stopped trying, and Jonghyun had buried the hurt in his heart because it was the last thing he deserved to feel. He’d tried to take it as a good thing.

Heechul’s song, his song about loving someone too late, after they had surgically removed the flowers in their lungs, echoed through Jonghyun’s head like war drums.

But Jonghyun was a professional. He took a deep breath, went outside, and pretended nothing was wrong. Heechul was already back on-set, joking with Kyunghoon and Youngchul. 

 

\--

 

“Are we starting again?” Dongho was seated on the floor of their dance studio, his legs sprawled out in front of him. Jonghyun shut the door behind him. His mouth was a thin line, likely because Dongho was the only one not tripping over his own guilt every time he spoke to Jonghyun.

That didn’t mean Dongho wasn’t guilty but come on. Jonghyun’s situation was too serious to remain a secret, and that had been over a week ago. It was time to move on.

“Yeah, again. We’ll do it again.” Jonghyun coughed, wet and too loud. It echoed through the practice room. He pressed a hand against his chest, his expression contorting into pain.

“Jonghyun—” Aaron’s hesitance didn’t help anything. Jonghyun straightened his shoulders. There was sweat running down his face.

“We’ll start now.”

“You should sit down,” Dongho said. “Watch this time.”

“Why?” Jonghyun’s voice was harsh. Minki flinched, and Jonghyun’s eyes darted towards him and back to Dongho again. This was ridiculous.

“You look like you have a fever,” Aaron said. “And you’re dead on your feet.” Jonghyun ducked away when Aaron tried to touch his forehead.

It maybe shouldn’t have been such a surprise because Jonghyun had been growing weaker for months now, but he’d caught some cold. He’d been sniffling for the past few days and had only gotten more shivery. Everyone had noticed.

“I’m fine.” His elbow joint cracked when he reached for the stereo.

“Wait, Jonghyun, stop for a second.” Aaron followed him over.

“We don’t have time. We’ve got to get this done.”

“It is done,” Aaron said. “There’s no reason you can’t sit out and rest. Why won’t you?” His voice grew louder, and Dongho thought that was a good thing. Jonghyun wasn’t going to do something on his own; he’d held them at this uncomfortable limbo for over a week. Someone had to push him.

“I’m not glass. You don’t have to baby me.”

In a direct contradiction to his words, Jonghyun had to brace himself on the mirror after he turned around.

Aaron touched his forehead, and this time Jonghyun didn’t struggle. “You definitely have a fever.” Jonghyun said nothing, so Aaron continued, “Why won’t you stop? Even if it’s not…you still have to rest. You know that.”

Jonghyun dropped his head. “I can’t."

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t waste any more time. I need to keep going.” A droplet of sweat masqueraded as a tear, dripping down his cheek. Jonghyun wiped it away. “We can’t afford it.”

He sniffled and rubbed his nose on his sleeve, disregarding how objectively disgusting that was. It left a wet mark.

“I can’t stop now,” he said. His breaths grew harsher, and he pressed his hand against his chest again. Whatever it was, it had to hurt like hell.

“You need to sit down.” Aaron’s voice was firm. Jonghyun shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself.

“One more time.” His voice was hoarse. “Please. I’ll rest after, I promise.”

That might be the best deal they get. Dongho shared a look with Aaron and Minki. Jonghyun smiled when he won, but it was tight. His hand was still on his chest.

The dance started well enough, and Jonghyun only faltered near the end. It happened right in Dongho’s field of vision. Jonghyun flinched like something hit him, then stumbled to a stop, his hand on his chest again.

Minki nearly collided into him. “Hey, hey, Jonghyun. Are you okay?” The song continued, the faint sound of Jonghyun’s wheezing under it. He blinked at Minki and opened his mouth to say something. There was a pause, like the universe sucked in a deep breath only to hold it.

That was when Jonghyun crumpled.

Minki lunged for him but Jonghyun's deadweight was too much for him. He lost his balance and nearly fell on top of Jonghyun, stumbling over him.

“Jonghyun?” Aaron dropped next to him and moved him to his back. Minki had slowed his drop, at least. Jonghyun hadn't hit his head too hard.

He was sweating, was horribly, horribly pale, but his eyelids twitched. Jonghyun groaned, weak but prolonged.

The next song on their album was playing. An upbeat, happy one. Dongho’s own voice sang about hope.

“Don’t move,” Dongho said because he had to do something when Jonghyun was so helpless. Unsurprisingly, it changed nothing.

Jonghyun shifted as though he wanted to sit up, even though his eyes were half-closed. Dongho rested his hands on his shoulders to stop him. It took almost no force.

“What—what happened?” Jonghyun asked. He squinted his eyes like the light hurt. Dongho shifted to shade his face, but the practice room’s lights came from too many angles. “What’s going on?”

He gagged on something but swallowed it. 

Was it safe for him to be on his back? Would he choke if he started coughing again? Had he just swallowed a flower?

Dongho had to get his shit under control. He rubbed Jonghyun’s shoulder in hopefully comforting circles, and Jonghyun turned glassy eyes towards him. He was out of it.

“I’m calling Taehyuk hyung," Aaron said. “He needs to go to the hospital.”

Dongho agreed, prepared to hold Jonghyun down should he protest. But Jonghyun hardly seemed to hear him, still gasping and clutching one hand to his chest. Dongho's adrenaline hardened into fear.

His own breaths were shaky, but he kept his voice steady and calming. “You’re okay. Hey, I’m going to help you sit up. Aaron hyung’s taking care of it, okay? We’re taking you to the hospital.”

If Jonghyun was sitting, maybe he’d have an easier time when he coughed. Dongho didn’t know if that was how it worked, but Jonghyun couldn't breathe well on his back. He had to do something.

“Ready? One, two, three.” He looped his arm around Jonghyun’s back and lifted him off the floor. Dongho had to support most of his weight. His head hung down, eyes closed.

Jonghyun’s hand reached out for anything it could find, finally gripping the material of Dongho’s sleeve. “Don’t leave,” he said.

“I’m right here.”

Jonghyun sank further against him. He was so small in Dongho’s arms. That was nothing new, but something was different. Jonghyun hadn’t always been so insubstantial. When did he last eat?

“You’ll be okay,” he repeated, even though he didn’t know if it was for Jonghyun or for him. “You’ll go see the doctor, and they’ll help you.”

Jonghyun let out a noisy breath. “I can’t tell them.”

“Can’t tell who what?” But Jonghyun only shook his head miserably.

“He’s going to be so worried.”

“Who?”

Jonghyun didn't answer.

Dongho sighed. “You shouldn’t talk, just rest.”

He tried to lower Jonghyun back to the floor—what had he been thinking, sitting him up? That wouldn’t help anything— but Jonghyun tightened his grip on his sleeve. “Don’t go,” he repeated.

Dongho nodded and shifted him so he could lean more against Dongho.

Just when Jonghyun’s grip started to loosen and Dongho questioned if he was falling asleep, he spoke again. “Tell him I’m okay. When he worries.”

Dongho tried to smile, his arms tightening around Jonghyun. Why was he so selfless? Why was he so concerned about someone else even now? “How will I know who to tell?”

“He’ll call you. Or Minki or Aaron hyung. Tell him I’m okay.”

That didn’t clarify much, but Dongho wouldn’t press, not now. “I will.”

Jonghyun smiled tightly, but it faded fast. He coughed again. The door to the practice room stayed firmly shut, but surely Taehyuk would be back soon and would take him to the hospital.

Dammit, they should’ve called an ambulance, but Dongho understood why Aaron hadn’t. Something major was wrong, but it wasn't an absolute emergency and calling an ambulance to Pledis would fuel a mess of rumors.

“Can I tell you something?” Jonghyun asked. He blinked watery eyes. Dongho’s grip tightened on him.

“Of course.”

“You can’t tell anyone.” Jonghyun pulled himself a little closer, his hand still tight around his shirt. He stretched it out, maybe even ruined the shirt, but Dongho couldn’t make himself care.

“I don’t know what to do.” Jonghyun’s voice was a hoarse whisper. It drove a stake straight into Dongho’s chest. “I’m scared.”

The stake twisted.

 

\--

 

Back when they’d been kids, the others used to tell Minki to pick-and-choose his decisions on a basis of ‘what would JR say if I asked him to do this with me?’

(Yes, they used to actually call him JR, because back then they’d thought it was cool. Shut up, you did stupid things when you were fifteen too, and you probably weren’t even living in the same room with seven other teenagers.)

Minki had taken that as a challenge and was inspired to convince Jonghyun to do the strangest things with him, especially because Jonghyun wasn’t nearly as opposed to fun as the others imagined. He’d converted him into a partner-in-crime in no time.

Really, they should have used Minhyun, if only because the idea of bringing Minhyun along is enough to disgust anyone out of doing anything.

Regardless, that whole ordeal had ended with two things: one, he and Jonghyun climbed onto the roof only to get too scared to come down, leading to an awkward situation in the morning where they yelled until Yusang noticed them. Yusang proceeded to laugh his ass off, and eventually, Minki got angry enough to climb down and throw some hands.

And two, imaginary JR sometimes liked to throw his two cents in on Minki’s life decisions. That was something he’d take to the grave because it was weird, and even more importantly, Minki would rather die than admit Jonghyun has a decent head on his shoulders.

Imaginary JR did not approve of this situation. He also didn’t like how Minki had betrayed normal Jonghyun, despite how Minki had covered his ears for that.

“They didn’t tell you anything?” Minki was pacing, so fast he covered the room in only a few seconds, then turned back and did it again. He knew the answer, but something had to fill the air between them.

Funny how empty the dorm was without Jonghyun, considering all he’d done in the past week was hide in his room.

(Imaginary JR told him that that was his fault. Minki told him to shut up.)

“Of course not,” Dongho said. “I’m not family. They can’t tell me anything without Jonghyun’s permission.” He was kinder than normal when Minki asked something obvious. Probably because of the pacing. Or, you know, that Jonghyun was in the goddamn hospital.

Without them.

Minki paused to kick a table leg, and it rattled. His toe hurt. He limped the length of the room before deciding that took too much effort.

“Will they send him to surgery?” Aaron asked.

“What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not get?” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and it rasped over his stubble. “Sorry—I just—he kept telling me not to leave him.” Taehyuk wasn’t a soulless monster, so when Jonghyun had clung to Dongho like he held salvation in his fat hands, Taehyuk had let them both go.

That had only worked until the doctors had stolen Jonghyun away, of course.

Dongho should still be there for him. They all should be there! Minki was thrumming with energy, his nerves on fire, but Taehyuk had spared them only a sympathetic smile before returning Dongho to them.

“It’s not your fault,” Minki said. It was his. He was the one who’d betrayed Jonghyun and told the others. If he hadn’t, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Jonghyun would have rested sooner.

Dongho dropped his head in his hands. Minki continued to pace. If he kept it up long enough, Aaron might join him.

“We should sleep,” Aaron said. He didn’t sound convinced by his own words. “We still have to go tomorrow.”

“That’s bullshit,” Minki burst out. “We shouldn’t be performing.” By tomorrow, Aaron meant in two hours, long before they’d release Jonghyun from the hospital. They were supposed to hop on a goddamn plane and fly all the way to Busan and leave Jonghyun behind.

“They can’t pull us all, you know that. It’s bad enough they’re pulling Jonghyun this late.”

“So you think they shouldn’t’ve?”

(Imaginary JR shook his head disapprovingly. He never liked when Minki picked fights, apparently even when they were for Jonghyun’s honor.)

Aaron closed his eyes, gathering himself to avoid snapping back. Minki was being a piece of shit and knew it, but the nervous energy wouldn’t stop. He dug his nails into his palms. The pain helped.

“Sorry,” Minki said. It didn’t sound convincing to his own ears, but he meant it.

“You’re worried.” Aaron offered him an excuse, and Minki accepted it with a nod. “We all are.”

“I still think we should go back anyway. To hell with what they want us to do.”

“Minki, sit down,” Dongho said. He’d been waiting for someone to say that, but he only rolled his eyes and continued pacing.

“Fuck you. I’m serious,” Minki said. “Is there really a good reason for us to be here? It's not like we'll sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Aaron said. “They wouldn’t let us see him anyway. Even if we tried to go, we’d have to leave before their visiting hours even start.”

“And if we’re recognized it’ll only make everything worse,” Dongho said. “This can’t go public. It’s bad enough that Pledis will know now.”

Minki stumbled over nothing on the carpet. He caught himself easily, but the movement spiked his adrenaline. “I hate waiting,” he said.

“Then go to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll help.” The last thing he should do now was retort back, but it was out of his mouth and in the open air before Minki registered saying it.

“Be quiet, both of you,” Aaron said. “We need to decide what to do.”

“Without Jonghyun?”

“Well, we can’t really call him up, can we?” Aaron asked. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if Taehyuk hyung asks us if we knew he was sick. We’ll have to answer.”

It was a no-brainer. “Well, we’ll lie, of course,” Minki said. “Why’s that even a question?” They had to do what was best for Jonghyun.

“They’re going to find out,” Dongho said. “There’s no way they’ll let Jonghyun not disclose the doctor’s report.”

“Hopefully they’ll let him recover first,” Aaron said. “And we’ll worry about that in a few days. So until we talk to Jonghyun, we know nothing.”

Minki dropped into the seat next to him, finally burned out. Dongho and Aaron were very still.

“I can’t believe we’re performing without him.”

The company had rushed them back to practice afterward, of all things. They’d spent a couple hours figuring out who’d cover Jonghyun’s lines, who’d fill the gap he left in their dances. Minki remembered it all; he wasn’t about to fuck it up, but it was going to suck to stand on stage without him.

He’d shaken with exhaustion and rage the whole time. How dare they shuffle them around and act like there wasn’t a big Onibugi-shaped imprint missing?

It was laughable to think they’d look at all okay standing on stage as three people, but well, Minki had once thought that about only having four of them on stage, and next he knew, he’d been seated at a desk, grasping one of their dancer’s hands and singing ‘Hello.’

“There’s something else we need to talk about. About once Pledis knows.”

Minki’s heart sank. He wanted to brush Aaron’s words that were about to come away, to act like they weren’t important. But he knew better.

“So, worst come to worst and this turns into a scandal, what do we do?”

“Support Jonghyun,” Minki said, immediately. “Obviously.” He didn’t have the energy to roll his eyes, nor was this a situation for it, but he forced it anyway. It was either that or start crying, which wouldn’t help anything.

Obviously.

“Yeah but how?”

“I don’t think we can decide that.” Dongho grimaced. “I think Jonghyun has to tell us what he needs from us. I mean, we don’t know everything still, and we tried to decide things for him and look what happened.”

“Did he say something to you?” Aaron asked. “You’re acting weird.” Minki checked him out, and sure enough, Aaron was right. Dongho was overly fidgety. He only ever got that way when he was guilty; normally he had an enviable ability to stop moving.

Minki’s leg was bouncing. He pressed his palm against it until it stopped and the other started.

“He did,” Dongho said. He frowned. “I don’t think I should say what, though.”

“So now we’re keeping more secrets?” Minki should really learn to shut the fuck up sometime.

“Maybe this only happened because you told us he had it.” Dongho’s voice didn’t rise, but Minki bristled.

“Oh, so it’s all my fault. Jonghyun’s in the hospital, and we’re about to fucking go on stage without him, and it’s all my fault.” His voice was too loud. When did he start yelling? Minki clenched his hands into fists and pretended he wasn't crying.

He couldn’t bear to look imaginary JR in his nonexistent eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was rough... I struggled a lot with the middle scene, and I'm p torn over the heechul scene. im not sure if it taught jr something important and gave closure to the whole suju scandal thing that's been referenced a bunch or if its unnecessary ugh. anyway, if anyone's curious the suju member who had hanahaki was Hangeng, who irl was a chinese member who left SM bc of a slave contract. 
> 
> oh also, I cant take complete credit for the knowing bros questions. the shower one is actually based on what exo's baekhyun said on the show, and the second is something that i have vague memories of nuest talking about once (tho with only yesung) but cant find online now so uh ????


	9. Friends to Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should be looking forward to January—there’s under two months left now ‘til he comes back.  Everyone’s so excited for it, but if you aren’t treated, you won’t be with them.”
> 
> “Don’t.”  Jonghyun’s voice was strangled.
> 
> “And what’ll happen then?” Seungcheol continued. “They’ll choose a new letter for a new subgroup?  Don’t make them do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should come as no surprise but warning for hospital scenes and mentions of needles and IVs and such.
> 
> Also quick note--the flashback took place before Seungcheol started rapping, so don't be surprised when he compares himself to vocalists ^^

“Minhyun hyung?”

“Hm?” Minhyun didn’t look up from his book, but he recognized Daniel’s voice easily enough.  He was tucked in the corner of the room, curled up with tea and a novel he’d planned to read two years ago. 

Five pages in, and the protagonist had no clue what was going on, but Minhyun suspected the world was magic and the protagonist the chosen one.

“You okay?” Minhyun asked. Daniel’s hair was still wet from the shower, and he’d thrown clothes on haphazardly, like he’d been interrupted. 

It was early, much earlier than Daniel would’ve woken normally, but he had an individual schedule first thing in the morning.  He’d have to leave in under thirty minutes.

“Have you seen the news?”

Minhyun blinked, nonplussed.  “No, I’ve been—” He went to gesture, then remembered the book in his lap and closed it.  “Did something happen?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Daniel said.  Minhyun translated that to mean that Daniel thought it was something but worried it would upset Minhyun.  “There’s an article that says Jonghyun hyung’s not going to be at the Busan Hallyu Festival today. Is he alright?”

“I—what?” Minhyun refrained from reaching for his own phone to confirm what Daniel said.  “What else did it say?”

“You haven’t heard from him?”

Despite how pointless it was, Minhyun snagged his phone off the table.  Nothing, of course.  Jonghyun hadn’t texted him in months.  He’d stopped trying to get his attention weeks ago.

Minhyun stared down at his phone screen until it went dark.  “I’ll call—someone.  I don’t know.” 

Under five minutes in, and he was nothing but a clueless protagonist. But unlike his book, he was mostly certain the world wasn't magic and that he wasn't the chosen one.

Dongho’s name was the first he spotted in his contacts, and he pressed it without a second thought.

“You’re calling Jonghyun hyung?” Daniel plopped down next to him.

Dongho’s recording apologized for not being able to take the call and prompted him to leave a message.  Minhyun tried again with Minki, but once again, no answer.

“You should just call him.”

“I can’t.”  He pressed Aaron’s contact, and it started ringing.  Jonghyun had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Minhyun.  The least Minhyun could do was respect that.

“They’re probably already at the—“ .

"Hello? Minhyun?" Aaron spoke with a hushed tone, and Minhyun could hear the telltale sounds of wind and traffic.  They were in the van. “Can you hear me okay? Minki and Dongho are sleeping.  I don’t want to wake them.”

“Is Jonghyun there?” Minhyun matched Aaron’s whisper, no matter how unnecessary that was. “Is he okay?”

“You saw.”  Aaron’s sigh crackled over the line.  “He’s in the hospital.  He should be fine, though.”

“Should be?” Minhyun’s voice sharpened. “What happened?”

Aaron paused, and Minhyun’s heart jolted even faster.

“Hyung, please. What’s going on?”

“We don’t really know?”

Minhyun could imagine Aaron’s grimace, the way he’d scrunch up his face as he said that.  He hated it. “I don’t get it.”

“He passed out. Hyung took him to the hospital, but we haven’t seen him since.”

Oh. “Don’t tell me he’s there alone.".

Aaron sighed again, long and low. “We didn’t have a choice.  Trust me, we’d be there if we could.”

“And you have no idea what’s wrong?” Minhyun tried to hide his desperation, but he was certain Aaron could read him as well as he could read Aaron.  “You had to notice something.  People don’t just pass out.”

“He caught a cold,” Aaron said.  He'd gone suspiciously flat.  “Maybe it’s related to that?  But really, Minhyun.  I don’t know.”

“You’re not telling me everything.” 

Aaron went silent, then there was a heavy breath.  “No, I’m not, and I’m sorry, but I can’t.” 

“Did Jonghyun say that?”  Minhyun trained his eyes on the wall, focusing on a single small crack.  He shouldn’t be angry.  Not now and not like this.

That didn’t stop it. He clenched his hands into fists and dug his nails in.

“What’s going on?” Minhyun asked.  “Jonghyun won’t talk to me, and I’ve tried to—I don’t know--give him time.  But it’s been months and now this?  Why aren’t you talking to me?”

Daniel shifted beside him, and Minhyun flinched, only then remembering he wasn’t alone.  He shot Daniel an apologetic grimace, but Daniel waved him off.

“He hasn’t been talking to you?” Aaron asked, as though that was what mattered.

Minhyun shook his head like Aaron could see it.  As quickly as it had come, his anger dissipated, until Minhyun was left with slumped shoulders and a lump in his throat.  “Not since July.”

“That long?”

Minhyun picked at the upholstery and didn’t bother to say it again.

“We’re staying in Busan tonight,” Aaron said.  “We won’t see him until late tomorrow, most likely.”

“He’ll be there alone.”

“Seungcheol said he’d stop by to see how Jonghyun’s doing.  You can call him later if there’s no news.”

Minhyun let out a breath.  At least someone would be there for Jonghyun. 

“Okay.”  He wished he had something better to say.  “Thanks for telling me.”

He said goodbye and finished the call, dropping his phone on his lap and leaning forward to put his head in his hands. 

“Hey, hey,” Daniel said, resting his hand on Minhyun’s back.  “What happened?  What did he say?”

“Nothing." Minhyun's voice shook, and Daniel drew circles on his back.  “He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Are you sure he knew?”

“There’s something he’s not telling me,” Minhyun repeated.  A flicker of anger jolted through him and faded just as quick. 

“Has Jonghyun hyung really not been talking to you?” Daniel asked.  Something had gone weird in his voice, but Minhyun didn’t care enough to figure out what or why.

He nodded.

“And you have no idea why?”

“It’s nothing, I guess,” he said.  “I mean—I don’t know.  It’ll be fine.  We’ve fought before.”

Except this wasn’t fighting because fighting took two people, and Minhyun hadn’t consented to this battle.

“Does it normally go like this?” Daniel sounded tentative, but his hand was still warm and firm on Minhyun’s back.  He shifted closer, and Daniel pulled him into his side. 

“No.  Well, maybe for a few hours,” Minhyun said.  “But this is—different.”

Daniel was silent for so long Minhyun turned to look at him.  He was staring out into space.  Minhyun didn’t have the energy to ask what he was thinking about.

“You should get ready,” he said.  “You’ll be late.”

 

\--

 

The consultation room was plain, white walls and a table topped with navy blue.  Jonghyun tapped his nails against it, his other arm stretched out over his knees.  He still had an IV in, and they’d moved him and it together down to this room.

It had hurt.  Everything hurt.  Shockingly, being in a hospital didn’t make everything better.

Jonghyun assumed it was sometime in the afternoon, but there weren’t any clocks, and he wasn’t certain where his phone was.  He’d spent the hazy hours of wakefulness being shuffled around to x-rays and tests.  His arm throbbed where they’d drawn blood. 

 “Kim Jonghyun?” The doctor smiled.  He’d seen upwards of five or six nurses and doctors since he’d arrived, and she was the first who’d taken the time to do more than the briefest introduction. “My name is Doctor Park Yoonsun.  I specialize in respiratory diseases.”

She took a seat across from him.  There was another nurse with her who introduced himself as Moon Jonghwan.  While the doctor was considerably older than him—by two decades, at least—the nurse looked around his age.

“How are you feeling?” Her gaze was soft, but Jonghyun stared at the cup of water in front of him.  He’d coughed all night; the medications they gave him had only lowered his fever and blocked some of the pain.

“I’m tired,” he said.  The words scratched their way from his throat. “But I’m not in pain or anything.”

Moon Jonghwan typed his response into the computer.

“When can I leave?” Jonghyun asked.  His heartbeat echoed where the IV was attached, and Jonghyun tapped his fingers to the same tempo. The buzzing of the air conditioning hurt his head.

 “We recommend that you stay another two days.”  She held Jonghyun’s gaze like a teacher.  He was small under it, curled in on himself like a child. “Your current diagnosis is Pneumonia in your right lung. In normal cases, a person your age should be able to recover from it without medication, but we’re prescribing you two antibiotics.”

“Pneumonia?” Jonghyun repeated.  That was the last thing he’d expected.  Had they made a mistake? Should he correct them?  Of course, it might be a blessing in disguise.  At least then no one else would know.

She must’ve noticed his hesitance.  “It’s a rare form, caused by the development of the plant _Clethra Alnifolia_.  Which brings me to why this consultation is necessary. Have you ever heard of Hanahaki Disease?”

Her gaze was serious but kind, concerned.  Jonghyun turned sideways to cough, and it ripped up his throat.  He took a sip of water.  “I have.”  His lips were dry.  He licked them.

“Are you aware that you have it?”

It was the first time he’d been asked that.  Hyunbin and Minki had found out; they hadn’t been told, per se.  Jonghyun shifted to wrap his arms around his knees only to remember the IV.  “I am.”

“We’re going to do a CAT scan, and once we receive those results we’ll know more about how far it’s progressed,” she said.  “Unfortunately, it will take around a week to receive them.  My recommendation for you is to schedule a consultation meeting with a surgeon as soon as possible.  I know of several who would be good choices.”

Jonghyun nodded.  He tried to wrangle his thoughts into place, but besides a steadfast refusal for the surgery and the need to get out of the hospital, there wasn’t much. 

The walls were white, and the room smelled of nothing.  He shivered.

Dr. Park Yoonsun sighed.  “Jonghyun, I’m going to be honest with you.”  She leaned in closer.  “You have been living, knowingly, with a terminal disease.”

Jonghyun couldn’t say anything, but she didn’t wait for an answer.

“I’ve listed the contact information for a few therapists in Seoul whom I know personally,” she said.  “It would benefit you to speak with one.”

“Oh—oh, I’m not—” Jonghyun’s face reddened.  “It’s not like that.”

He wasn’t some overly dramatic protagonist, set on enduring the disease until his love loved him back.  They’d just decided long, long ago that Nu’est comes first, above everything, and Jonghyun had to do his part.  Minhyun couldn’t mean nothing to him, not after they’d been through so much together.

“I want to make it clear to you that you have a life-threatening condition.  _Clethra Alnifolia_ may be a plant, but it functions as a parasite.  It's taking a severe toll on your body.”

Oh.  Jonghyun couldn’t meet her eyes.  That made sense, he supposed.  It was his body feeding the plant in his lungs. 

“What happens if I get the surgery?”

“Recovery time is normally four to eight weeks, but I understand you’re a singer?”

Jonghyun nodded.  Close enough.  Assuming Pledis wasn’t already preparing to dump him on the street or anything.

“In that case, I would give it up to twelve.  Your surgeon will give you specifics.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to ask. Jonghyun swallowed, but it didn’t make his throat feel any better.  “And my…feelings?”

“I can’t predict that,” she said.  “Individuals who’ve undergone the surgery report anything from barely noticeable effects to a complete loss of romantic love for that person. There’s little known correlation between their situations.”

“So I won’t know,” Jonghyun said.  He tried to process that.  “No one knows.”  Minhyun didn’t deserve that.  He’d always deserved better than what Jonghyun could offer, but this was a whole new level.

“There are options for you, Jonghyun.  You’re not the first to go through this.  But I need to make it clear what will happen if you refuse treatment.”

He got the feeling she’d heard what went through his head.

The doctor shuffled papers so another was on top.  “These are for you,” she said.  “Unfortunately, we don’t have anything specifically related to Hanahaki Disease on hand, but your symptoms are similar to these conditions.  I believe you’ll find this information helpful.”

Jonghyun leaned forward to read them.  The first one was a leaflet on the effects of asthma.  Behind it was a similar one on low blood sugar, and the final was on malnutrition.

He waited for someone to stop him, to take them and call it a prank. It wasn't that bad, really. Until the other day, he'd gotten along fine ignoring it, and even then, it had been the Pneumonia that landed him in the hospital.

The symptoms stood out to him—wheezing, coughing, and dizziness, then mood changes, lack of an appetite, seizures, and finally, fatigue, lack of awareness, and increased risk of infection and illness.  In total, there were well over thirty listed among the pages. Jonghyun's heart sank with each one he read.

It was basically a checklist.  He’d experienced the majority of everything listed, barring only the worst of them—seizures, comas, and death, mainly.   His hands shook trying to keep a hold on the pages. He dropped them onto the table.

It was just a plant. It wasn't supposed to do this.

“Without a CAT scan, I can’t know how far the disease has progressed, but I can do my best to answer any more questions you have.  With your consent, we’d like you to take a survey for us.  There’s an ongoing study regarding how specific feelings relate to Hanahaki, to better understand the links between love and _Clethra Alnifolia_.” 

She passed him another sheet.  This one was a waiver.  He didn’t trust his voice to speak, but he accepted the pen she handed him. There was no reason not to take it.

 

 

UNIVERSITY OF SEOUL MEDICAL CENTER HANAHAKI DISEASE SURVEY

  1. How much time passed between the development of romantic love and Hanahaki Disease?



             A) Under one month  
             B) One month to six months  
             C) Six months to one year  
             D) More than one year

     If D, please specify the number of years and months, to the best of your ability: _______________

 

 

Jonghyun selected ‘D’ and hovered his pen over the blank line.  He had no idea. There'd never been a moment where he'd looked at Minhyun and got hit by a train or whatever people compared falling in love to. His awareness of it had moved slowly, like the tides where he'd grown up.

One wave to another, you couldn't see the moon's power over them, but as hours passed, the ocean changed. Jonghyun had floundered, had missed the message like a jellyfish trapped on the sand, abandoned by the water.

He'd once prided himself on how he could make Minhyun laugh; though it was never hard, each giggle was an accomplishment in Jonghyun's book. Minhyun's soft touches and softer singing became a lullaby to him. It was one he hadn't appreciated until they'd moved into a new dorm and no longer all stayed in the same room. Only a few nights later, Jonghyun had laid awake, only to hear the door open and his bed creak as Minhyun slid into it. 'I missed you,' he'd said. 'Did you miss me?' Jonghyun had rolled to face the other side, groaning when Minhyun wrapped his arms around his chest. 'Go away, I'm sleeping.'

Minhyun insisted on Jonghyun singing to him when he couldn't sleep. He hadn't understood Jonghyun's surprise the first time he'd requested it, but he hadn't been able to get over that Minhyun wanted Jonghyun, the only rapper in a roomful of singers, to lull him to sleep. Jonghyun had whispered the song like a prayer, something too special for other ears.

A tear hit the paper, and Jonghyun startled. Cheeks red, he scrawled down a quick 'six years' and left it at that. Close enough.

The words looked small on the paper, messy and as sterile as the hospital once spliced from his memories.

 

**REWIND**

 

Seungcheol’s mom has a thing for the saying ‘surround yourself with people who bring color to your life.’

He’d always thought it was stupid, but he remembers it now, when he looks at Jonghyun and sees red.

Jonghyun’s newly dyed hair is a shock of bright color that fades into black.  It’ll look cool once it’s styled, but now it’s messy and fluffy and Jonghyun flicks it from his eyes every other second.  He’s got no makeup on, nothing like how he’ll look tomorrow when Nu’est take their first promo photos.

Without Seungcheol.  Because, you know, he didn’t make it. 

He and Jonghyun face off in the hallway, staring each other down.  Seungcheol’s hands are in his pockets.  He’s not surprised Jonghyun knew where to look for him.

“What do you want?”

 Jonghyun flinches, and Seungcheol condemns his own guilt.

Jonghyun's not a little baby.  He can take it.

“You didn’t come tonight,” he says.  His voice is soft, balanced somewhere between gentle and timid.  “We missed you.”

Seungcheol shrugs Jonghyun’s hand off his shoulder.  “Didn’t realize I was invited.”

That’s bullshit.  It was meant to be the eight of them celebrating. 

“What are you talking about?” There’s a harder edge to Jonghyun now.  He must know where Seungcheol’s going with this, but he still gives him a chance to back down.

Seungcheol doesn’t take it, can’t take it.  He’d known four of them would debut in Nu’est—Jonghyun, Dongho, Aaron, and Minki had been confirmed ever since Pledis first announced they planned to create a group of only five.

They all deserve it. Seungcheol wants them to succeed.

But he should be with them.  That fifth spot was supposed to be his.

“My voice is better than Minhyun’s.”  Seungcheol sounds like a child, but Jonghyun’s been telling him they’ll debut together for months, ever since they’d started filming Pledis Boys videos.

Jonghyun hesitates, and that means he’s right, right? Because Jonghyun spends a ton of time with Minhyun.  He and Minhyun sometimes talk the night away.  If Seungcheol is wrong, Jonghyun will tell him.

“You know that.  I’m a better choice.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Jonghyun says. Pleads.  He says that a lot, whenever Seungcheol makes a snide comment, like how Dongho’s stuck up and that’s why he doesn’t speak to them at school.  “They probably want you to lead Tempest.  It’ll only be a couple months.”

Seungcheol snorts.  He’s going to be in Tempest, and maybe Jonghyun’s right, but he’s no leader.  The first day he walked into the building, Jonghyun had greeted him with a shy smile and a quiet ‘hello,’ then proceeded to teach him half a dance.

“So you wanted Minhyun,” he says.  “Instead of me.  Were you lying to me?”

“It’s not my choice. You know that.”

Seungcheol laughs.  “Okay then.” He’s being unfair.  He’s being so fucking unfair.  There are tears in Jonghyun’s eyes, and they’re all Seungcheol’s fault.  Part of him wants to shrivel up in the corner, to finally cry because his personal water table has been rising all day, but it’s trapped, and he’s trapped, condemned to be a trainee while most of the others move on.

“I wanted to debut with you too,” Jonghyun says.  “But we’ll be leaders together now. Won’t that be cool?”  There’s desperation in his eyes; they sparkle with it, and if Seungcheol’s a good person, he’ll back down now.

It’s not Jonghyun’s fault.

“We’ll be in your shadow.” Seungcheol’s not sure where these words come from.  “You’ll be popular, and we’ll be compared to you every step along the way.”

Jonghyun's red hair flops all over the place when he shakes his head. He doesn’t have a defense because none of them know what the future holds.

But Seungcheol knows what happened now.  “They chose Minhyun because he’s pretty.  That’s it.  They’re gonna give him an innocent image, and he’ll act like he spends every day picking flowers.”

“Shut up,” Jonghyun hisses, and finally, _finally_ , he’s angry.  He steps closer, well into Seungcheol’s personal space.  Seungcheol looks down on him the slightest amount, and it’s a victory.

“He’s your friend too.  Why are you talking like this?”

Seungcheol laughs, and it’s bitter.  It bounces off the walls, off the mirror.  “Don’t play dumb.  I can’t believe after everything they decided who debuts because of looks.”

“Shut the fuck up.”  Jonghyun never swears.  He shoves Seungcheol and follows him, until he’s centimeters from pressing him into the wall.  Seungcheol catches his hand.  He’s stronger than Jonghyun, and they both know it.  This isn’t a fight he can win.

But it isn’t a fight Seungcheol can start either.  This isn’t Jonghyun’s fault.

Seungcheol growls and throws his hand to the side.  “Can’t risk bruising you. They need you to look pretty.”

Jonghyun’s shaking.  His fists are clenched at his sides.  “Are you saying we don’t deserve this?”

No. They all do, and no matter how angry he is, Seungcheol can't convince himself Minhyun really has nothing going for him. That doesn't change the fact that Seungcheol deserves it too, though. This is so fucking unfair. 

“Guess that’s why Aaron’s there too,” he says.  He doesn’t use an honorific because even though Aaron’s lax about that, it tastes like an insult in Seungcheol’s mouth.  “Doesn’t matter what you say, as long as you look good in photos.”

Jonghyun inhales sharply, and Seungcheol has to continue because if he stops, he’s going to break down and cry, and he won’t do that in front of Jonghyun. 

He won’t. He won’t. He won’t.

“You wanted it to be Minhyun.” Seungcheol takes a shuddering breath when his voice threatens to fail him.  “Don’t deny it.”  

Jonghyun’s the one who tells Minhyun to shut up the most, but also the one who laughs at his crazy stories.  He stares like Minhyun’s an angel when he sings and throws a pillow at him when it happens too late at night.

Seungcheol likes Minhyun’s voice.  Sometimes when he can’t sleep, Minhyun sings to him.  Other nights he hears Minhyun do the same to others.

Once he caught Jonghyun singing to Minhyun, something soft and whispered to not wake anyone else up.

“What’s so special about him?” Seungcheol asks.  Jonghyun’s jaw is set, his eyes hard.  If Seungcheol keeps pushing, Jonghyun may punch him.  “He acts like his voice could save the world when really he’s not even that good.”

“I’m done with this.”  Jonghyun steps away, fists still curling and uncurling, and Seungcheol basks in the success of making him run away.

At least, until Jonghyun stops a few steps later.  Seungcheol nearly laughs. Can he really not do it?  What’s he going to do, apologize?

“Doyoon and Yusang weren’t like this,” Jonghyun says.  “They understood.”

Seungcheol’s heart plummets, dragged down by the guilt piling in his chest.  “Yeah, well, guess they’re better than me.” He still sounds snide, still harsh, but his jaw trembles.  He presses his lips together until they hurt.

The door beside Jonghyun swings open, and he jumps.  Seungcheol laughs. 

Jonghyun’s supposed to be all intimidating.  He’s Pledis’ boy group leader, Nu'est's Kahi, the first male trainee ever.  Pledis is resting all their hopes on his shoulders to establish a boy group that'll start off a new generation.

But Jonghyun’s no prodigal son. He's the humble one, a scaredy-cat and an easy crier.  He’s prone to nightmares and doesn’t like to travel, and what if he can’t do it?  What if Jonghyun’s not everything they want him to be?  What happens then?

It’s not his problem anymore, Seungcheol guesses.  He’s not a Nu’est member. Maybe if he was, he'd have to tell Jonghyun that if he's not careful, they'll walk all over him. If he's not careful, he'll ask the world to take care of him as it prepares to drag him under. Jonghyun cares too much and trusts too easily. Once his anger fades, he may even apologize to Seungcheol for this conversation, as though it's his fault.

Jonghyun’s attention is still on the open doorway.  A trainee Seungcheol’s never met stutters an apology.  Whoever the kid is, he's young and small and lost. His eyes dart between them, how they’re stiff and poised to attack.

“Aren’t you going to greet me?” Jonghyun snaps.  It’s the last thing Seungcheol expects to hear, and it thrills him because he caused it.  He’s the reason Jonghyun’s pissed.  After being perfect for so fucking long, Jonghyun finally did something wrong. 

He may not deserve Seungcheol’s rage, but this kid, some brand new trainee that normally Jonghyun would greet with open arms, deserves Jonghyun’s even less.

Seungcheol smiles, and it stings.

The trainee fumbles with a terrified, formal hello.  Jonghyun walks away without another word, finally disappearing through a door near the end of the hallway.

Tomorrow, Jonghyun will apologize. This kid must be fresh off the street, and Jonghyun will take him through his first dance, will promise him he's a natural, and within minutes, it'll be like what just occurred never happened. But until then, Seungcheol takes one small weight and attaches it to Jonghyun's already growing collection.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks the kid.  “Sorry about that.  What’s your name?”

The trainee greets him formally too.  He stutters through it.  “Soonyoung.  I’m—I’m sorry.  I didn’t know…”

“Don’t mind him; he’s an asshole.” Seungcheol smiles. "It's nice to meet you."

Soonyoung stares up at him, and Seungcheol's seen this expression before. It's how the younger trainees look at Jonghyun.

 

**FAST FORWARD**

 

“Jonghyun?” The door shut behind Seungcheol with a quiet click. Jonghyun was in bed, though it was set high enough that he was mostly sitting up.

Seungcheol's heart clenched as Jonghyun's eyes skated past his. He'd seen that expression before. It was how Jonghyun had looked at him for a couple years, when Pledis made it clear they believed Jonghyun was a failure and hailed Seungcheol as the leader they'd wanted.

It had hurt back then when Jonghyun refused to meet his eyes, and it hurt more now. He hadn't expected it.

“How are you?”

Jonghyun shrugged. 

Seungcheol had expected an ‘I’m fine’ or an ‘I’m okay.’  The silence drew him closer, but he refrained from reaching out, his fingers on the plastic edge of the bed.  He towered over Jonghyun, who only curled further to the other side.

“Did something happen?” he tried.

Jonghyun huffed.  He shot for amused but fell short.  “I’m in the hospital.”

Right.  “What happened?” Seungcheol amended.  “Minki told me you passed out.”

“I have Pneumonia.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah.”  He tightened his hand into a fist around his bedsheets.  “I thought it was going away.”

“That’s—contagious though, isn’t it?” Seungcheol didn’t know all that much about illnesses, but there was no way they would’ve allowed him in the room if there was a chance of him catching something.

Jonghyun paused a beat longer than normal. “You don’t have to be here if you’re worried.”  His voice was strained.  “I know they told you to come.”

“I wanted to come.”

“Did they tell you?”

“Did who tell me what?” Seungcheol grimaced, wishing he could pick up whatever was going on easier.  He was far enough out of the loop that he couldn’t even see it.

Jonghyun finally looked at him.  His eyes were red and puffy.  “I’m dying, I guess.  That’s what they said.”

“You’re—?”  Seungcheol cut himself off, before he made everything worse. “I thought they gave you stuff for it.”

He’d run into Taehyuk in the lobby, and he’d said Jonghyun planned on checking out soon.  Nu’est were filming their music video the next morning, and he couldn’t miss it.  Seungcheol had no idea how Jonghyun was going to get through it in his current condition, but well, it wasn’t his place to argue.

Besides, it was a music video.  Jonghyun had to be in it.

“The Pneumonia is.”  He coughed, burying it into his sheets.  It racked through his body.

Seungcheol rested his hand on Jonghyun’s back and rubbed slow circles into it.  It was odd to touch him. He’d gotten used to them sharing pleasantries and little else.  “It’s not just that?” 

His relationship with Jonghyun had gone down a well-traveled path.  Seungcheol had unthinkingly referred to him as one of his closest friends, all the way from Jonghyun’s debut to his own.  It wasn’t until he’d sat down—or more like until Doyoon smacked him in the face with it—that he’d realized he called Jonghyun his closest friend, but they hardly ever spoke.

Seungcheol had reached out a few more times, then he’d stopped calling Jonghyun anything more than an old friend.  It made sense; they were in different places. 

Literally, with Jonghyun in Japan and him in Korea, with Jonghyun struggling to keep his head above water and Seungcheol taking over the world.

With Nu’est failing as a group and Seventeen becoming everything Pledis hoped for.

“You’d do it too, right?” Jonghyun asked.  Seungcheol raced to keep up.  “If you were sick, you’d hide it too.  For them, right?”

Them.  His members were never far from Seungcheol’s mind; they were the most important people in his daily life.  That was something he’d seen in Jonghyun and thought he’d understood, only to debut and relearn it.

“How sick are you?”  Seungcheol would hide a cough or a headache or exhaustion, but clearly, whatever Jonghyun had was much more serious.

“I told you.”  Jonghyun repeated that weird huff.  “I’m dying.”

“Have you told anyone?”

Jonghyun nodded, and, of all things, laughed.  “Can’t believe I’m gonna get kicked out after everything.”

"Kicked out?”  What the fuck was going on?

“I’m going to cause a scandal.  I—” Jonghyun’s face contorted in an attempt to prevent any noise.  He pressed his arm against his eyes to hide his tears.

Seungcheol set a hand on his shoulder.  The important thing now was that Jonghyun calmed down.  Everything else could come later.

Jonghyun stopped as abruptly as he’d started, leaving behind only red-rimmed, puffy eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.

“Talk to me,” Seungcheol tried.  “Tell me what’s going on.”  He was out of his element.  With his members, comfort came relatively easy, but Jonghyun was different.

Seungcheol couldn’t promise him that everything got better, couldn’t use the extra ethos he possessed as the leader to enforce his words. 

Long, long ago he’d planned on Jonghyun leading him. 

Not so long ago, he found out survivor’s guilt sometimes came from something as seemingly small as a pasted-on smile and a ‘fourteenth place.’

But things changed once again.  He’d stood on stage as Jonghyun’s equal for the first time since they’d been featured on After School’s stages.

The idea that something could ruin that terrified him, even if he and Jonghyun were nothing but old friends now.

Seungcheol repeated his request.  He linked his fingers with Jonghyun, pretending he wasn’t some imposter friend who’d disappeared half a decade ago.

“I'm so sorry." Jonghyun clutched his hand tighter. He got the feeling he wasn't the one Jonghyun wanted to apologize to.

"Why?" Seungcheol asked.

"It's Hanahaki,” Jonghyun said finally. "Hanahaki disease."

It took everything in Seungcheol to not react.  He waited for Jonghyun to say more.

“They have to do surgery.” His voice was hardly audible, so low Seungcheol almost had to ask him to repeat it.  “Hyung already scheduled an appointment.  At least they’re not kicking me out right away, I guess.”

“They won’t kick you out,” Seungcheol said.  His voice shook.  “They can’t.”  His mind ran in circles—looping and looping incessantly as it tried to make sense of everything in his hands.

Jonghyun scoffed.  “You don’t believe that.”

He was right.  Seungcheol didn’t have a bad relationship with Pledis by any standards, but they’d certainly done things he’d disagreed with before.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jonghyun said.  “If I get the surgery, everyone’ll know.  There’s no way they won’t.” 

“Get it. Everything else can come later.” His health had to come first.

“I can’t do that,” Jonghyun said.  “It’ll ruin everything.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be better than this.”

“I don’t understand.”  His tone alone was enough to sink Seungcheol’s heart. 

“This.” Jonghyun gestured around the hospital room. “I’m wasting everyone’s time when I should’ve gotten better.  And now I need surgery like some lovesick idiot.” 

“You’re not wasting time,” Seungcheol said.  “Your health is more important than that.”

Jonghyun shook his head.  “I tried so hard to get through this without this happening.”  He laughed bitterly.  “But here we are.”

Seungcheol had never seen Jonghyun like this.  He hadn’t been like that back when they were kids, but it shouldn’t have surprised him that he’d changed over the years. 

Knowing that didn't stop him from mourning the kid he'd once known. Seungcheol had had his own fair share of disillusionment about how everything worked, and it had shattered with time. But Jonghyun was different. What did it take to keep going with debt and doubt and the awareness that the same company meant to support you believed that you're a failure?

Whatever it was, Jonghyun had it. He'd kept a smile on his face as he crushed walls only moments before they crushed him. For the first time, Seungcheol wondered what that had cost him.

“I should’ve at least been good enough to wait it out.”  Jonghyun set his jaw.  “But now I’m here, and this is about to become a huge scandal.”

“Wait it out?” Seungcheol echoed.  “What do you mean?”

“If I just kept it a secret and stopped loving him, I wouldn’t’ve ruined everything.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“How do you know?  Because you watched a couple dramas?”  His fingers tightened around Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol ran his thumb over the back of Jonghyun’s hand until he deflated. “That’s not how problems work.  You can’t just ignore it and wait for it to solve itself.  The surgery is how you fix this.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  Jonghyun’s words were sharper, clipped.  It was a tone Seungcheol recognized, one easily mistaken for anger but rather a cover for vulnerability.  “I can’t get it.”

Should he back off?  Probably.  But Jonghyun needed to understand this, and it was clear no one else had told him.  “Pretending you’re not sick isn’t handling it,” Seungcheol said.  “It’s running away from the problem.  If you don’t get the surgery, what do you think will happen?”

Jonghyun didn’t answer, and it was because Seungcheol was right.  When Jonghyun tried to pull his hand away, he didn’t let go.  Jonghyun’s fingers went limp.  

Seungcheol tried a new approach.

“Minhyun called me,” he said.  “He’s worried about you, and he misses you.”

Jonghyun pulled away again, and this time Seungcheol let him.  He pressed his palms into his eyes. 

“You should be looking forward to January—there’s under two months left now ‘til he comes back.  Everyone’s so excited for it, but if you aren’t treated, you won’t be with them.”

“Don’t.”  Jonghyun’s voice was strangled.

“And what’ll happen then?” Seungcheol continued. Jonghyun needed to hear this.  “They’ll choose a new letter for a new subgroup?  Don’t make them do that.”

“You don’t understand what you're talking about.”

“Then tell me.” Seungcheol pulled Jonghyun’s hands away from his eyes.  “You keep saying that.”

“What happens if I end up indifferent towards him?” Jonghyun’s hands shook in Seungcheol’s, and they’d finally, finally reached the core of this conversation.  “What would you do if you were indifferent towards one of your members?”

Oh, fuck.  Through all of it, Seungcheol had hardly considered the person who’d caused Jonghyun’s condition.  He paused. “A member?”

Jonghyun’s throat worked as he swallowed.  “What if I have to pretend to care about him?  It would ruin everything.”

Seungcheol tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out.  Jonghyun smiled in a way that clearly said he’d won but held no triumph.

“Who?” Seungcheol asked.

“Don’t ask that.  You know me.”  He leaned over, and Seungcheol wrapped an arm around Jonghyun’s shoulders, pulling him in close despite the awkwardness of Jonghyun’s position.

Seungcheol disagreed. The Jonghyun he knew was a bright-eyed kid with hopes for the stars. But even so, there was only one real option, only one member Seungcheol could imagine Jonghyun falling in love with.  He didn’t have to say Minhyun’s name aloud.  “But you’re friends,” he said.  “That won’t go away, only the love.”

“What even is that?” Jonghyun asked. “It’s been so long.  I feel so stupid doing this.  It’s so—dramatic.  But I swear this isn’t because of some stupid ‘I can’t live without loving him’ thing.  I just, I don’t want to ruin everything.”

Where were the lines drawn between a friend and a lover?  Seungcheol had had a few relationships, but they’d always remained separate from his friends and even further removed from his members. 

He couldn’t imagine combining those worlds, and maybe that explained why his relationships had never gotten too far.

“What if by the time he’s back, I don’t care about him anymore?” Jonghyun asked.  “We’ve been friends for so long—I can’t ruin that.  I can’t do it.”

Seungcheol didn’t have answers for him. "I don't think you have a choice."

“I'm treating him horribly.”  Jonghyun drew in a shuddering breath.  “Ignoring him.  Did he seem okay when he called?”

Seungcheol grabbed a tissue off the table and passed it to Jonghyun.  There was little he could say but the truth. “Worried,” he said.  “He cares about you a ton.”

“He always has.” Jonghyun’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile.  “And I love him for it.”

Seungcheol did his best to find an answer, but the silence was too heavy for him to lift. Finally, Jonghyun broke it.

"Thank you for coming," Jonghyun said. "Sorry you had to, you know, see me like this."

This time the words fit in Seungcheol's mouth. "I'm here for you." He clasped hands with Jonghyun the same way they used to when they were kids. The corner of Jonghyun's lip twitched as he followed Seungcheol through the overly complicated handshake, and Seungcheol nearly counted it as a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is like 95% creative liberties cause i dont know all that much about hospitals, 2011 pledis, or Scoups, but I hope you still enjoyed ^^ oh and Clethra Alnifolia is a real plant. they aren't parasites irl ofc, but I based the flower jonghyun's been coughing up and its scent off it. I worked in a forest covered in them and smelling them every day gave me this idea so ^^
> 
> Anyway, comments and kudos make my day ^^ thank you!


	10. Stage Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jonghyun’s not doing all that great,” Dongho said.
> 
> His words stabbed Minhyun directly in the chest, but he staunched the bleeding before anyone could see. “I mean, I figured that. He’s not here.”

**NU’EST W’s JR Admitted to Hospital** —2 weeks ago

 **NU’EST W’s JR to not Participate in Album Promotions** —1 week ago

 **Pledis Entertainment Releases Statement Regarding NU’EST W’s JR’s Illness and Participation in Upcoming Promotions** —1 week ago

 **Netizens Speculate Severity of NU’EST W JR’s Illness** —5 days ago

Jonghyun’s news app had notified him about a few of the articles that popped up about him. It grouped them under a heading of “Things That May Interest You” and displayed them as though they weren’t everything wrong with Jonghyun’s life.

He hadn’t opened any of them.

At first, it was because he had to film, which had been an adventure in and of itself. Jonghyun was glad he’d be in the music video, but they’d coated him in makeup just so he’d look a bit more alive, and everything had taken so much longer than it should’ve.

Then it was over, and Pledis informed him that he wouldn’t participate in album promotions. Taehyuk had rested a hand on his shoulder, then pulled him in for a brief hug, but he hadn’t said anything else.

Nothing about the Hanahaki. Nothing about Jonghyun’s future.

It had torn Jonghyun up for two whole weeks, through this morning, where he'd sat at a table with several executives and heard the first good news he'd heard in a long time. It had come paired with veiled threats, but that was to be expected. Jonghyun had technically violated his contract by withholding vital medical information, and Pledis had mostly glossed over that, giving him an easy out by never asking if he'd been aware of the illness before his hospital visit.

Jonghyun’s fuzzy socks slid across the kitchen tile, until he reached the table where he’d dropped his phone and paused his music. He couldn’t make up his mind--songs, genres, or even music versus silence. The dorm was too quiet, and Jonghyun wanted to fill it, but maybe music wasn’t the best distraction while his bandmates were off performing.

They had to be on their way back by now. Jonghyun hadn’t watched the stage; he’d meant to, but something cracked in his chest when he considered it. The last time he saw them on stage without him was during Produce 101.

He hadn’t thought it could get any worse than that but knowing he should be with them stung in an entirely different way.

So instead, he was making dinner. It was nothing too complicated—ramen noodles (because they were one of the few things Jonghyun could cook with guaranteed success), a variety of vegetables, and a couple fried eggs, all thrown in together.

This was what Aaron had done for them during Produce 101. Whenever there was a break in filming, they’d returned to the dorm to a good meal, and it was one of the few things that had kept Jonghyun sane when every day was a tightrope across anxiety, stress, and complete madness.

Jonghyun wanted the others to smile more. They wouldn’t accept an apology from him, but this was a good way to show it, rather than only say it. He’d put them through a lot recently, and it would only get worse. At least, that was what Pledis thought. 'When the public learns of the Hanahaki,' they'd said. Not if. When.

He readjusted his grip on the knife and leaned over the table to cut the green onions as finely as required. The sound of the knife cut through the silence as surely as the vegetables.

Jonghyun had goosebumps on his arms and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Within days, he’d started feeling a bit better—no longer on the brink of collapse—but he’d plateaued. The violent shivering was gone, but the intolerance to cold remained.

So had the exhaustion and the trembling and the weakness. Jonghyun had nearly nicked himself with the knife more than once.

It had taken two cans of Red Bull to get him through filming the music video. His memory after the first was fuzzy, predominantly his racing heart and coughing, paired with the makeup noonas brushing off his apologies when he couldn’t stop shaking. After the second, it went entirely black, and the next thing he remembered was waking up to terrified members.

He made it through, but that had been the last straw for Pledis. Jonghyun had found out that next day that he wouldn’t be participating in album promotions. His attempts to convince them otherwise had been sheepish, and he hadn’t shifted their opinions.

Everything about it was awful, but it was better than it could've been. Jonghyun wasn't stupid; he was struggling to make dinner, let alone stand on stage.

And Pledis planned to support him. Even if the Hanahaki came out. They'd treated it like any disease, had said it was something treatable and after he recovered, he would resume activity as Nu’est’s leader. When it became a scandal, they'd said, they'd handle it.

That was all he knew, but Jonghyun couldn’t summon the energy to care. As long as he would return to Nu’est, things were okay.

That required the surgery, but Jonghyun couldn’t think about that now. Later.

The water began to boil. Jonghyun dropped the vegetables in, and it stopped, though steam continued to rise and bubbles collected at its sides.

The telltale sound of footsteps trailed to the door, and the knob jiggled. He pulled the ramen off the burner, glad he’d guessed the time right, and added the eggs to it.

“Jonghyun?”

He transferred the pot to the holder. “I made dinner.”

“You should be resting,” Aaron said.

That still twinged, but Jonghyun buried it. He’d made dinner for a reason, and getting into an argument the minute the others walked in the door wouldn’t accomplish what he wanted.

“I had to do this.”

If anyone would understand, it was Aaron, and his soft smile suggested he did. Jonghyun matched it and groaned when Aaron ruffled his already messy hair.

“Food?” Dongho poked his head further in the kitchen. “Awesome.” Minki followed him inside.

They were all at a funny mix of on-stage, off-stage appearances. Their hair was all done, and only some of the makeup had been removed, but they were in simple, comfortable clothes.

Jonghyun was the out-of-place one, with his pajama pants and an ancient t-shirt that had a long-forgotten original owner. That mattered less as everyone grabbed chopsticks and began to eat, not bothering with separate bowls.

It was good. Familiar. It had become an unspoken rule that dinners couldn’t have somber atmospheres, something they’d desperately needed when the necessity of not wasting time had taken over everything they had during Produce 101.

The noodles were a tad undercooked, but no one commented on it.

“How was it?” Jonghyun asked.

“Awful. It sucks without you there.” Minki scrunched up his nose. “Aaron can’t rap.”

Aaron was midway through a bite and couldn’t defend himself. He slurped the noodles up as quickly as possible and choked. Jonghyun laughed.

“Can’t rap, can’t eat, can’t breathe… What can you do?” Minki shook his head. “Seriously, hyung.”

Jonghyun patted Aaron’s back in support. “If it helps, I’m bad at breathing too.”

There was a beat of silence, then, "it doesn’t, thanks.” But when they made eye contact, Aaron ducked his head and buried a laugh.

They shouldn’t be laughing over it--except something dislodged in Jonghyun’s chest, and some of the weight drained away.

Jonghyun wanted to smile, and so he did. “I bet you did well,” he said, his voice softer. “I’m proud of you guys.”

“Now you’re just being sappy.” Minki bumped into him gently.

“Making us dinner was already walking the line,” Dongho said.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that, maybe I won’t tell you my news…”

“News?” Minki perked up.

Jonghyun pressed his lips together, but his relieved smile broke out anyway. “The meeting went well. Said they’d support me.”

“Oh, thank God,” Aaron said. He rested his elbows on the table and dropped his head onto them. “I wasn’t looking forward to finding a new company.”

“What?” Jonghyun’s eyebrows shot up, but the others were nodding, lips drawn into grim lines. “New company?”

“Did you think we’d resign if you weren’t here?” Aaron asked.

“Oh.” Jonghyun hadn’t considered it. Why was it that every time he thought he’d figured everything out, he got blindsided once again? He tried not to gape, and then he was blinking away tears as they threatened to form.

“We would’ve been making music out of someone’s basement,” Dongho said.

“That’s basically what you do anyway,” Minki said. “As long as it’s not in Japan, we’re good.” They kept straight faces for a handful of seconds before dissolving into giggles.

Jonghyun’s heart warmed in his chest. This was why he loved his members. It was crazy to think only a few hours ago he’d been sitting in a hard plastic chair, hands clasped together as he contemplated how to respond if Pledis threw him on the streets. He'd promised himself not to cry and knew he would anyway.

They meant so much to him. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. Jonghyun had never wanted this, and they hadn’t either, but—maybe things would be okay.

“I’m sorry I’ve caused so many problems,” Jonghyun said. “You shouldn’t have to deal with it.” He was so lucky that they had.

Aaron flicked his shoulder. Jonghyun flinched and covered it with his free hand.

“You’re banned from apologizing,” Aaron said. “This isn’t your fault.”

“But I mean it,” Jonghyun said. “I’m not just—saying it or something.” He wanted them to understand. This meant a lot to him, and he hated that it was necessary. “This is a mess, and you have to promote without me, and it sucks. So—I’m sorry.”

“What could you have done differently to prevent it? It’s not in your control.”

He could’ve not fallen in love. Or accepted that Minhyun didn’t love him back without this whole ordeal attached to it. Jonghyun should’ve moved on; it was ridiculous that he hadn’t. Some puppy crush he’d had as a teenager was killing him six years later, and he was the only one who saw that.

Possibly because he’d told no one who he loved.

“Still,” Jonghyun insisted. “I’m sorry.”

“Fine, have your pointless apologies,” Minki said. It wasn’t pointless. Jonghyun meant it. “Can we move on? ‘Cause you’ll never guess who we ran into backstage.”

It was a clumsy subject change—Jonghyun knew exactly who would be backstage—but he didn’t dispute it and smiled as Minki told him. Dongho jumped in and added that Aaron still couldn't look EXID in the eyes, and Aaron mimed stabbing him with a chopstick.

Dinner was nearly finished, but when Jonghyun went to grab the pot, Aaron jumped in and got it instead. “We should get to bed,” he said. "Got another early morning tomorrow."

Of course, Jonghyun didn't, but he was always down to sleep these days. He hoped he was imagining the growing awkwardness between them all.

The others showered, and Jonghyun laid down. His room was quiet, the sound of water running barely strong enough to come through the door. Jonghyun faced the wall and stared at it.

His door opened, and he feigned sleep. The bed creaked as whoever got in with him.

Arms wrapped around his waist and settled him closer. Aaron's body wash smelled light and clean and had the soft scent of flowers.

“I’ll keep you up,” Jonghyun murmured. “I’m still coughing.”

Aaron let out a long breath. “It’ll be fine. Can I stay?”

He didn’t normally ask. Jonghyun twisted around and shifted closer. “Silly question.”

“Thought you were angry.”

Jonghyun hummed and shook his head against Aaron’s shoulder. Anger took too much effort. They didn’t understand because he hadn’t told them everything.

“Did you really think we’d stay without you?” Aaron almost sounded hurt, and Jonghyun wished he’d given it thought earlier. Leaving would’ve been as impossible to consider for them as it was for him. He’d been irresponsible to miss that when it had to have impacted them in the past few weeks.

“I don’t want to ruin your careers.” That was a safe answer. Aaron tightened his arms around him. “I want you to do what’s best for you.”

“We are,” he said.

Jonghyun’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, only continuing after Aaron confirmed he could. “I don’t want the surgery.”

No one had asked that. Not the company, not his members. Jonghyun got it; the disease was killing him, and they couldn’t see further than that.

But he had to. Minhyun deserved it.

“Why?” Aaron asked.

Jonghyun closed his eyes. “It’s not because I’m too in love or something like that. It'll just change things.”

He’d long accepted that he’d remain friends and friends alone with Minhyun. Jonghyun didn’t know what he’d do if he lost that too.

Well, except he did. He wouldn’t care. That was how this worked. Minhyun would have to deal with losing their friendship because Jonghyun wouldn't give a shit about him.

“Like what?”

“Do you know who it is?” Jonghyun’s lip cracked as he spoke. He swiped his tongue over it, and it stung.

“Not for sure,” Aaron said. Then, “Minhyun said you haven’t been talking to him.”

“I thought it would go away.”

Aaron stroked his back, and Jonghyun loosened his grip. He hadn’t realized he’d grabbed onto Aaron.

“What if I stop caring about him? I could ruin everything.”

“I thought there’s no chance of losing more than your love for him.”

Jonghyun had told them that when he’d gotten back from the hospital. Losing memories or all feelings was something that only happened in dramas. “I’ll still care less.”

“Do you think me and Minki and Dongho care less about him?” Aaron asked. “You’ll be like us.”

It made sense, but how did he know? There were too many variables, too many unknowns. Jonghyun sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Besides, relationships change. Even if it is different, that doesn’t mean things’ll never get better.” Aaron yawned. “Minhyun’s an idiot, but he’s an endearing one.”

Jonghyun huffed out a small laugh. “I guess you’re right.”

Maybe it would be okay. He'd get the surgery, and they'd be friends. Maybe he could live with that.

Jonghyun didn't exactly have a choice anymore. It was live with that or die.

 

\--

 

Minhyun had had a dream. It was something fleeting, confusing, but if he had to explain it, it would go a little like this:

 

_(Enter NATION’S LEADER from stage left, onto a dark stage with a single spotlight focused in the middle. NATION’S LEADER steps into the spotlight)_

NATION’S LEADER

Thank you for your love and support. I promise to always—

_(NATION’S LEADER begins to cough. Still coughing, NATION’S LEADER exits stage right.)_

 

That couldn’t be the end, could it? Minhyun's memory was fuzzy; maybe it was more like this:

 

_(Enter KIM JONGHYUN from stage left, onto a dark stage with a single spotlight focused in the middle. KIM JONGHYUN steps into the spotlight)_

 

No, no. That wasn’t right either.

 

_(Enter ONIBUGI from stage left—_

 

Definitely not.

 

_(Enter NU’EST LEADER from stage left, onto a dark stage with a single spotlight focused in the middle. NU’EST LEADER steps into the spotlight. Enter NU’EST MEMBER #4 from stage left, following NU’EST LEADER.)_

NU’EST MEMBER #4

Jonghyun, what’s going on?

 

Wait, was that him? Minhyun didn’t remember that part.

 

_(Enter EMPEROR from stage left, onto a brightly lit stage. WANNA ONE MEMBERS can be heard laughing offstage.)_

 

But where was Jonghyun? He had been there too.

 

_(Enter NU’EST W JR from stage left, onto a dark stage with a single spotlight focused in the middle. NU’EST W JR steps into the spotlight)_

NU’EST W JR

Thank you for your love and support. I promise to always work hard.

_(NU’EST W JR begins to cough and falls to his knees. The curtain drops, but the coughing can still be heard.)_

 

He must not remember it, and from the sour adrenaline still pulsing through him, Minhyun didn’t think he wanted to. He wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth and tried to blink himself back into wakefulness.

His phone was on his lap, and only a few other members were in the room with him. Sungwoon was curled up beside him, about as close as he could be without actively leaning against Minhyun. Guanlin, Jinyoung, and Jihoon were whispering about something or other in the corner.

Minhyun slipped away from Sungwoon and stretched, brushing his hands over his clothes to straighten them. They still had a bit of a wait until they had to worry about preparing for their stage.

“Oh, hyung, you’re awake.”

Minhyun croaked a response and cleared his throat. He hadn’t been sleeping all that well. After his call with Seungcheol, who’d promised to call him back after seeing Jonghyun and then been strangely tight-lipped about Jonghyun’s condition later, he’d started racking his brain for what he possibly had done.

Minhyun hadn’t found a single answer that made sense. Anytime he even got close, he had to pretend it wasn’t Jonghyun he was thinking about. Sure, maybe some people would feel so snubbed by Minhyun’s success outside the group that they’d ignore him. Or maybe some people would move on, would forget about him and not care anymore.

Jonghyun wouldn’t. Minhyun couldn’t connect a single petty reason to him.

So either Jonghyun had changed so severely that Minhyun didn’t understand him anymore, or something else was going on.

Minhyun placed his bet on the second.

“Where is everyone?” he asked. “Am I missing something?” It was odd for half the group to be gone at once like this. He wasn’t worried or anything--the others would've had no qualms about waking him up for something important--but his stomach churned.

Intuition? Sixth sense? It wasn’t all that different to the slight nudge he felt whenever a room was too messy. An urge to get up and fix what was wrong. If only life's problems were as easily dealt with as dust.

“They’re just visiting some others here.” Jihoon looked up from his phone. “MXM's here, and—oh, Minki hyung stopped by and asked for you. But you were out, so he said to send you over later.”

“F—” Minhyun swallowed the curse. “You should’ve woken me up.” Sungwoon groaned at the volume of Minhyun’s voice, but Minhyun didn’t have it in him to apologize.

How the hell had he forgotten Nu’est were here too? Well, forgotten wasn’t the right word. Wanna One had arrived before them, and Minhyun had assumed they’d wake him up, so he hadn’t cared when he fell asleep.

There was no way Minki had thought he would rather sleep than visit with them. Minhyun thinned his lips. What the fuck was going on? Everyone was reading from a script he couldn't follow.

“I’ll be back,” Minhyun said. He didn’t wait for a response. The hallway was as surreal as always, thick with memories as a place he’d visited sporadically for the past six years. Recent ones—winning and celebrations and laughing with the rest of Wanna One—and ones that were ancient history by now.

Minhyun didn’t know which room Nu’est W was in, but the doors were labeled anyway. He skimmed them, finally locating the one he wanted.

Despite everything, Minhyun hesitated before knocking. There was little chance of Jonghyun being on the other side of the door. Pledis would've never allowed him to come when he wasn't performing, especially because he was sick.

That was a good thing, right? Jonghyun needed to rest.

But Minhyun was at the point where anger had begun to broil under his skin, deep in his stomach. If Jonghyun wanted Minhyun to leave him alone, he'd do it, but he deserved an answer.

And not just from anyone—from Jonghyun. He didn’t get to disappear after such a long friendship. Minhyun might not understand what happened, but anyone could see that it was fucking unfair and rude and not okay. In a little over a month, they'd be groupmates again, and what did Jonghyun plan to do then?

(Minhyun wasn't angry; he was scared. So fucking scared because Jonghyun didn't do things without reason, and he was reading off some script Minhyun couldn't see and wasn't a part of. But anger and indignance were easier, simpler. If only he could believe Jonghyun hated him for something stupid.)

He knocked, a few quick beats that were more to warn than ask permission. It was the kind of knock he used if he knew one of his members needed to talk but had slipped off to their rooms before Minhyun could catch them.

The door opened without a squeak, in time to catch a quiet, “—hyun,” and revealed a whole pile of people he didn’t expect. Daniel, Seongwoo, and Jisung looked less surprised to see him than Minki, Dongho, and Aaron did.

Minhyun flipped through a few script pages but couldn't see where they had all entered from.

“Minhyun!” Minki was on his feet in a flash and in his arms. Minhyun held him and tried not to stare at the others. It was quiet. Too quiet. The hesitance wasn't normal, and Minhyun cleared his throat so he could speak.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He meant to address it towards Minki, but his eyes found his other members too. It hurt to see his other members with Dongho and Aaron but know they’d left him behind.

“Because you’ve officially passed eye bags and moved onto eye luggage,” Minki said. He backed off and squinted at Minhyun’s face. “Makeup doesn’t even totally cover it.”

As though Minki were one to talk. Minhyun could see the telltale signs of exhaustion in him too. He shifted foot-to-foot, bouncing on his toes, running on fumes and caffeine.

Minhyun wanted to say all of that, but everyone was still silent and staring at him and he couldn’t beat around the bush anymore. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You’re all acting weird.”

“Maybe we just didn’t expect you to barge in like that,” Dongho said. “You barely knocked.”

A pause. “Was I--supposed to? Do you not want me here?” The silence made him realize how loud he'd been. Minhyun set his jaw and leveled his gaze at Dongho. Minki pulled him further into the room.

“Keep your voice down,” Aaron said. “We can’t risk anyone recording this.”

Daniel and Seongwoo both winced at that, likely reminded of the last time that had happened. It had been an honest mistake and hadn't impacted them too much, but Minhyun understood. Scandals sucked.

“Are you saying that because you’re going to tell me what’s going on? Or are you saying that because it’s me?”

Minhyun didn’t know where to sit. There was enough room for him to sit next to Dongho, but something repelled him from it. Finally, he joined Jisung, who pressed his thigh against Minhyun’s.

Something was wrong, and it was more than whatever secrets everyone was keeping. Minhyun kept waiting for that easy companionship to come flooding back, and it did—he loved Minki and Dongho and Aaron, and he was a little bummed that they hadn’t all hugged him—but there was something off.

It was like he kept trying to jam himself into a puzzle, but he didn’t fit. The size was wrong. Even if all the colors seemed to match up, even if it should work—it wasn’t.

Minhyun wasn’t sure who changed shape. Probably all of them. Maybe it was stupid that he hadn’t seen this coming. Maybe he was overthinking everything, and it didn't exist.

Would someone just give him a copy of the damn script already?

“Well?” Minhyun asked. “Are you going to answer?” Jisung pressed closer to him, but Minhyun declined the comfort.

“Jonghyun’s not doing all that great,” Dongho said.

His words stabbed Minhyun directly in the chest, but he staunched the bleeding before anyone could see. “I mean, I figured that. He’s not here.”

The first time Minhyun watched their new music video, Jonghyun’s state had scared him. He’d put his all into looking healthy and fine, but Minhyun knew the difference between normal Jonghyun and Jonghyun who'd needed piles of makeup to join the living.

“You know I found out because of a headline, right?” Minhyun asked. “No one told me.”

“You weren’t really our first priority, Minhyun.” Aaron’s words made sense, but it was more than that.

“Even Seungcheol would barely talk to me about it. And this isn’t like Jonghyun or any of you! Really, what’s going on?”

“I told you I couldn’t tell you everything,” Aaron said. “Can’t you just accept that?”

Minhyun sat with his back straight and stiff. He swallowed hard and knew once again that he wasn’t fitting right, that something was the wrong size. “No, I don’t think so.” Minhyun’s voice was quiet. “We don’t keep secrets like this. Never have, and—I’m not okay with us starting now.”

He stood and walked towards the door. Minhyun waited for someone to stop him, and no one did.

The door banged shut behind him, and Minhyun leaned back against the wall, tried to pull himself together. Someone passed by him, and he pulled out his phone so he wasn’t just loitering outside Nu’est W’s room.

He'd officially lost the plot.

Against his volition, his hand tapped out the way to Jonghyun’s contact, then to their messages. It was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from typing out that he missed Jonghyun and hoped he was doing better.

It was stiff and all wrong and not how they normally talked, but Minhyun sent it before he had time to erase it. He didn’t dare look at his phone again, not until all his members were back, and Minhyun had to turn it off because they were going on stage soon. Hair finished, makeup finished, clothes all straightened and perfect, he unlocked his phone.

From Kim Jonghyun: _I miss you too_

It was stiff and all wrong and the most comforting thing Minhyun had seen in a long while.

 

\--

 

It came as no surprise when Jisung pulled Seongwoo aside. He made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat anyway.

They’d only just gotten back, and all Seongwoo wanted was to sleep. From Daniel’s half-dead expression when Jisung called him over too, he agreed.

“What’s going on with Minhyun?” Jisung asked. At least they weren’t beating around the bush. Seongwoo leaned his head back until it bumped against the wall.

“It’s complicated,” Daniel said.

Jisung snorted. “Yeah, I figured that when none of you could look him in the eye. I’ve never seen Minki or Dongho act like that with him.”

When Minki stopped by to collect Minhyun from their waiting room, Seongwoo had pulled him aside and asked about Jonghyun. All it had taken for Minki to grab him and Daniel was the mention of Hanahaki.

It turned out Daniel was right. He’d told Seongwoo about Minhyun’s phone conversation, about Jonghyun’s illness. Everything had begun to fall into place when they started thinking that maybe their information hadn’t been correct.

Minki had confirmed it, and they’d talked. The ringing silence after Dongho asked how many people knew would stick with Seongwoo for a long while.

That was when Jisung walked in, and then Minhyun joined not too much later.

“I know we only have a couple more months,” Jisung said. “But if we start falling apart now, we won’t make it till then. You need to tell me what’s up with Minhyun.”

“Ask him yourself,” Seongwoo snapped. “Why do you think we know?”

“Hyung.” Seongwoo wasn’t sure if Daniel meant him or Jisung. They stared at each other.

“Jonghyun hyung’s sick,” Daniel said. “it’s serious. Like, really serious. Minhyun doesn’t know.”

“But you do? How?”

That was a good question. It hadn’t seemed so ridiculous at the time, but they'd followed a trail of rumors, some convoluted game of telephone that had gotten all fucked up somewhere along the line.

“It’s hard to explain,” Daniel said. “It went through a couple people.”

“So you heard a rumor, and it was right? But you didn’t tell Minhyun?”

Seongwoo winced. He'd meant to tell Minhyun--or at least ask him about it--but he'd gotten a bit off track. “Jonghyun would’ve told him if he wanted him to know.”

“It sounds like Jonghyun has enough on his plate right now.”

Seongwoo groaned and raised his eyes to the sky. “We didn’t ask to get involved with this, you know."

There was a moment of silence. Then Jisung sighed. “It’s late,” he said. “This isn’t the time to talk about this.” Seongwoo murmured an agreement and turned to leave.

“Hyung? What would you do?” Daniel asked, and Seongwoo froze in his attempt to escape. So much for that.

“Stop messing with things that aren’t your business.” Jisung's voice went flat. “We can’t fix their issues, and if you keep trying, something will get worse.”

“What if something bad happens though?”

They’d said Jonghyun planned on getting the surgery. That would change his relationship with Minhyun forever, and if he did it without him even knowing, Minhyun would be thrown in blind.

Wasn’t Jonghyun supposed to be selfless? Because that wasn’t. It was selfish of him to keep Minhyun out of the loop. Seongwoo considered smacking his head off the wall again.

“I don’t know,” Jisung said. “But I have to focus on us right now. Jonghyun can take care of himself.”

Jisung was right. Seongwoo nodded and excused himself to bed. He wished they’d never gotten involved in whatever was going on between Minhyun and Jonghyun. It hurt to see Minhyun struggle with it, and it hurt to see the tension between them.

Jonghyun’s Hanahaki was a secret on its last legs, held up by simple determination alone. They hadn’t even been able to list everyone who knew, and it was only a matter of time before fans speculated too. Seongwoo had already seen headlines about fans trying to get more information on Jonghyun's illness.

Would it matter that much to tell Minhyun? He would find out eventually, and this way, at least he would know before the fans.

Daniel was still behind him. Seongwoo turned and asked exactly that.

“I mean, if we do, at least there’s no more secrets, right?” Seongwoo said. “That'll make things better.”

Secrets created a limbo between action and inaction. It took effort to preserve them, was exhausting sometimes, and until they came out, nothing else could happen.

Seongwoo was tired of it. “We should tell him.”

“I don’t know.” Daniel’s voice was doubtful. “Jonghyun hyung clearly doesn’t want him to.”

“Yeah, but that’s Jonghyun. He’s probably worried it'll stress Minhyun out or something. Maybe he doesn't realize how hard this is on him."

“Hyung literally just told us to mind our own business.”

“This is a way of completely washing our hands of it,” Seongwoo said. “Besides, aren’t we obligated to tell Minhyun? He's our friend.”

“So's Jonghyun. But, I guess.” Daniel screwed his face into a grimace. “I don’t like this.”

“Believe me, neither do I,” Seongwoo said. “At least it'll be over soon though.”

The more time passed, the more Seongwoo was convinced telling Minhyun was the best choice. He deserved to know.

Plus, Seongwoo would never forgive himself if he kept the secret, and Jonghyun died or something. He’d seen enough shows where the surgery goes wrong or the protagonist chokes on the flowers or wakes up with no memory of whoever they’d once loved. Jonghyun had been in the hospital and pulled from the comeback, and what if the next news they got was that he had died?

If any of that happened, and only then did Minhyun find out about it, Seongwoo had no idea what he'd do.

He didn’t want to find out.

“We should get to bed,” Seongwoo said. Tomorrow was their last stage for the comeback, and the following was a blessed, blessed day off.

They could tell Minhyun then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been too long without 2hyun together. next chapter.
> 
> Comments mean everything to me ^^ thank you to all those who leave them and kudos!!


	11. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you know I don’t love you back?” Minhyun asked.
> 
> Jonghyun blinked. “You can’t,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Don’t lie to me.”
> 
> Minhyun didn’t answer immediately, and Jonghyun cleared his throat uneasily. “Are you saying you do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out this fantastic, fantastic fanart of Jonghyun by @yoodoyoo on tumblr!](http://yoodoyoo.tumblr.com/post/180097356392/only-did-this-after-retiring-from-realistic) It looks amazing and they deserve all the love for making it!!
> 
> Also quick note that this is kinda a repost ^^ Had some issues with what I originally put up and ended up taking it down a couple hours later. I do suggest reading this one, even if you read the first version. It's very different.

 

Walking the blue-carpeted hallway—left from the elevator, then the first right—was following the steps of a dream.  Not only because Minhyun’s head was fifty thousand kilometers out, but also because he hadn’t followed these steps in over a year.

They were embedded in his muscle memory like an old dance; he knew how it should work, but if he thought too hard, he hesitated.

Hence where he was right now.  He stood outside the door, staring at the number pad.  His fingers twitched to fill in the combination that would let him in—the same one he punched at least once a day since they’d moved into the building. 

Minhyun was frozen.  He didn’t remember the ride over, and he didn’t know what he’d do once on the other side.  Everything had changed in what felt like seconds, and now he was here.

If he were honest, he didn’t think he was handling it well.  His emotions flooded him, complicated and mixed and confused, and they swirled into frustration and even a deep, pulsing anger.

He didn’t think you were supposed to find out about your friend’s deadly illness and get more and more pissed off, but here he was.

Minhyun stood in the chilled hallway, trembling in Seongwoo’s coat and the first pair of shoes he’d spotted.  They weren’t waterproof, and his left sock was soaked from a misplaced puddle. 

Seongwoo and Daniel had tried to explain, but Minhyun hadn’t listened, had lunged for what he needed to leave and stumbled out of the dorm.

He didn’t care what they said.  Not now.  Not yet.

Minhyun rested his hand on the doorknob.  The golden paint was scratched, and the metal spread the chill further through him.

Jonghyun was inside.

Jonghyun was dying.

Minhyun clenched his jaw and stared at the white door like he could burn his way through it.

What was he going to say? 

Jonghyun loved him.  Loved him so much he was choking on petals.  He was scheduled for a surgery that would remove the feelings and do who knew what else.

And Jonghyun lied to him.  For months, if not longer, and in the end hadn’t been the one to finally step up and confess. 

Minhyun kind-of wanted to punch him for it.  Not, like, hard or anything but still enough to prove he wasn’t handling this the right way.

He couldn’t stand in the goddamn hallway for too long, though.  At some point he needed to walk inside.

Instead of pressing in the code that ghosted along the tips of his fingers, he knocked.  Three sharp bangs.

Silence.

There was white noise ringing in Minhyun’s ears, and for the first time he considered what he’d do if Jonghyun wasn’t there.  There was no ‘plan B,’ but Jonghyun’s schedules had been canceled.  He had to be home.

Minhyun would give it another minute, and if there was no answer, he’d walk in anyway.  Jonghyun had avoided this conversation for long enough.  If it had to happen on Minhyun’s terms, then it would.

He wished he knew what those terms were.

The seconds hand on his watch passed twelve, and he poked in the code.  When the lock clicked, Minhyun turned the knob but didn’t open it.  Warning bells rung in his head like he was trespassing or something, but Minhyun locked his jaw.

This was his home.  Nothing could take that away from him, not even the realization that they’ve all been lying to him for months. 

He added his shoes to the pile near the door.  The dorm was silent.  Maybe Jonghyun really wasn’t there? But they’d always been pretty good about shutting the lights off when they left—saving energy and that whole ordeal—and Minhyun didn’t think that would’ve changed. 

He oriented himself towards Jonghyun’s room.

They’d gotten new movies and even an additional shelving unit to hold the spillover manga that didn’t fit in Jonghyun’s room and the books Minki had removed from Minhyun’s.  There were several dishes sitting in the sink.  While not messy, the dorm was lived in, and that gave its silence a surreal quality. 

The carpet had a new stain on it—something red, maybe wine.  Minhyun reached Jonghyun’s door and stopped again. 

He was in there.  Minhyun pushed the door open more harshly than he’d planned, and he stiffened as it creaked. 

Jonghyun was at his desk, headphones on and a game Minhyun didn’t recognize on the screen.  He didn’t look up as the door opened, and the sight was achingly familiar—Jonghyun zoned out from the world. wearing pajama pants and a hoodie.  His hair was fluffed up and messy.

Minhyun’s heart squeezed.  He’d missed Jonghyun so much, and this was everything he wanted.

At least, until it wasn’t anymore.  Minhyun’s anger refused to go forgotten, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

Jonghyun’s attention was fully on the screen, and he absent-mindedly bit at his lip.  In the past, Minhyun had walked over and tapped Jonghyun until even he couldn’t ignore it anymore, just to get a rise out of him, or he’d tugged his lip from under his teeth as gently as he could, so Jonghyun wouldn’t have to suck down chapstick like a desert later.

Minhyun didn’t want to scare him, but he had few options.  He closed the door behind him.

The motion caught Jonghyun’s attention, and he glanced over, eyes already back on the screen when he froze.  The GAME OVER screen flashed before he turned around again.  Jonghyun slipped his headphones off but said nothing.

Minhyun’s anger faded at his widened eyes and the bags under them, but it didn’t disappear, merely laid dormant.  Jonghyun was cute, but he wasn’t blameless.

“Hey,” Minhyun said, shooting for casual and missing.  “We need to talk.”

Jonghyun blinked a few times.  His eyes shot to the side like he was nervous, which would’ve been funny if everything didn’t suck.  “Minhyun?  What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse.  Was it from the Hanahaki or the surprise?

“You have to—”

“Does your manager know you’re here?” Jonghyun asked.  “You shouldn’t sneak out.”

Minhyun’s anger flashed white hot and then he had to unclench his fists and release a deep breath to loosen his shoulders.  “Are you kidding me?” Jonghyun couldn’t hold his gaze.

“I—” His voice stumbled, and Minhyun scoffed.  He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Don’t try to get out of this,” Minhyun said.  “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

Jonghyun finally stood up.  He still looked like he’d been caught red-handed, a calf in headlights. Minhyun’s lips twitched into a twisted smile. 

He was staring.  It had been so long since he’d seen Jonghyun, and he looked awful.  He’d lost all the weight from his face, only sickly gray skin stretched over bone.   

Maybe Minhyun should back off.  Jonghyun was sick.  He was dying, and Minhyun was pissed at him. What if he got worse?

“How do you know?” Jonghyun asked.  “Who told you?” His voice grew stronger, louder, and for the first time, Minhyun got a glimpse of the Jonghyun he wanted.  

“It should’ve been you.”

Jonghyun sighed and stuck his hands into his pockets, like a turtle retreating into its shell. “Why are you here, Minhyun?  You didn’t tell me you were coming.”  Jonghyun’s eyes narrowed.  “Did the others tell you to—?”

“If I called, would you have answered?”

Jonghyun had texted him a couple days before, but when Minhyun had responded and asked how he was doing, he’d received radio silence once again. 

Now Jonghyun averted his eyes.  His throat worked, and Minhyun didn’t need him to answer verbally.

“You’ve got Hanahaki, and you’ve hidden it for months.  Wouldn’t tell me.  Wouldn’t talk to me.  And now you’re acting like I’m unreasonable?”

 “Minhyun—”

“Let me finish.”  The way Jonghyun looked down at his arms, wrapped gently around himself, was almost pitiable, but Minhyun couldn’t stop now.  “I’ve spent the past months trying to figure out what I did wrong—and I find out it’s because you love me?”

“It’s not like that,” Jonghyun said.  “You deserve—”

“How do you know what I deserve?” Minhyun already knew what he’d say.  It would be something self-deprecating and wrong and an excuse.  “We’ve barely spoken in the past six months.”

Jonghyun might as well have been a stranger.  Except no, because this wasn’t inconceivable for him.  It made more sense than Minhyun liked, following the tune of a long-ago song Minhyun had thought they’d outgrown.  This was the way of Jonghyun-the-kid, the hopeful, self-sacrificing baby leader who promised them the world and took any failures out on himself

Minhyun had thought he’d be different, mainly because Minhyun’s own past role was as foreign as a stranger’s.  He wasn’t going to promise Jonghyun it was okay, that everything was okay.  This wasn’t.  It had sucked and hurt, and it was all so easily avoidable, if only Jonghyun had dealt with it.

Minhyun was tired.  This was his first day off in months, and there were entire lists of ways he’d rather spend it than telling Jonghyun off.  He’d returned to the people he’d called ‘home’ for a third of his life, and he felt worse than when he couldn’t see Jonghyun at all.

This wasn’t a mess he could fix, not with Jonghyun like this, and the stakes were too high for him to try.

It was Jonghyun’s choice in the end, anyway.  He was the one dying.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” Minhyun lied.  There was so much more.  “Talk to me again if you want, and I hope this all works out for you.”

Jonghyun was staring as though he’d become a statue. He pursed his lips like he wanted to say something but nothing came out.  Minhyun hated how easily he could read Jonghyun—his regret, his uncertainty.  His emotions ran through him like a theme linked between the movements of a symphony. 

Minhyun blocked his ears and ignored it, but the sound trickled through.

 “No, wait,” Jonghyun said.  He caught Minhyun’s wrist, and Minhyun dropped his eyes shut, still facing away.  “Wait, I’m sorry.”

The last thing Minhyun wanted was an apology, but that had always been Jonghyun’s first instinct.  He apologized to everyone and for everything, even things that weren’t his fault.  Did they even mean anything anymore?

“You’ve been doing so well.”  Jonghyun’s hand tightened on his wrist.  “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You know me better than that.”

Jonghyun still wouldn’t meet his eyes.  Part of Minhyun wanted to force him, but that might’ve crossed the line to cruel. No matter what it seemed, his goal wasn’t to make Jonghyun worse.

Minhyun wished he knew what his goal was exactly.

“You deserve everything, Minhyun. This was—supposed to go away.  I wanted it to go away, so I didn’t talk to you because if it didn’t, I’d need the surgery, and then I’d ruin everything.”

Jonghyun’s answer made more sense than Minhyun liked.  It still wasn’t a good way to handle it—Jonghyun must’ve watched it get worse and worse, and it had gone on for far too long, considering his trip to the hospital. 

“How do you know I don’t love you back?” Minhyun asked.

Jonghyun blinked.  “You can’t,” he said, matter-of-fact.  “Don’t lie to me.”

Minhyun didn’t answer immediately, and Jonghyun cleared his throat uneasily.  “Are you saying you do?”

His fingers were still wrapped around Minhyun’s wrist.  The touch was warm, and Minhyun held his hand absolutely still, lest Jonghyun realize and let go.

Minhyun didn’t love him, not in the way that would end his illness.  He’d never considered dating Jonghyun, never looked at him like that past a reasonable appreciation.  Jonghyun was an idiot, but he was a good person, a kind person.

The type of person you looked at and thought their future partner should treasure them and appreciate how lucky they are.  Minhyun had never fathomed _being_ that partner but—

He enjoyed his smile and his laugh, and he liked taking care of Jonghyun.  Of all his members—past and present—Jonghyun was the one whose touches always meant the most.  Minhyun had started multiple wars with persistent skinship and growing annoyance over the years, where he’d hang off whomever to push them further and further, but none of the games came close to the one he’d started with Jonghyun.

It had always thrilled him when Jonghyun returned one of the touches or even accepted Minhyun’s.

Some sick part of him was happy Jonghyun loved him, no matter the costs.

“No,” he said.  “But—if you weren’t sick, and you confessed, I would’ve said ‘yes.’”

He couldn’t love Jonghyun—not when they’d been apart for the past year, not when Minhyun felt so different.  He hardly had himself figured out—clearly.  Minhyun had started out righteously pissed off and had stormed over to chastise Jonghyun and now look at him.

How was it that Jonghyun could compose a variation in Minhyun so easily? 

It would take time for him to love Jonghyun like that.  But he could one day, and the realization sent him to a stumbling halt.  The fingers around his wrist held him together, the ribbon wrapped gently around his neck, keeping his head in place.

Minhyun almost expected Jonghyun to untie it.

Jonghyun stared at him, not comprehending.  He tilted his head slightly to the right, and that unconscious motion made Minhyun’s heart soften, just like it always did.

“I would’ve tried with you,” Minhyun clarified.  “If you wanted.”

Minhyun tried to imagine it.  His oblivious past self, with all his misconceptions and acceptance that they’d never become that popular, that at the end of the day, all he could guarantee was that he’d spend as long as possible making music with the four people most important to him.

The same Minhyun who had cried at the Produce 101 finale and couldn’t imagine ever falling into a new normal with Wanna One.

If Jonghyun had confessed to him then, he didn’t know what he’d have said.  Maybe made a joke, or thought he was kidding.  Maybe wouldn’t have paid much attention, because back then everything was turbulent and scary, and they’d all been so, so stressed. 

He ran his thumb over the part of Jonghyun’s forearm that he could reach, and Jonghyun flinched like he’d been burned.

His hand dropped to his side, and Minhyun’s wrist was cold without his touch.

“Talk to me,” Minhyun said.  “What are you thinking?”

It had likely been cruel of him to tell Jonghyun he could’ve loved him, if only it wasn’t too late. Minhyun was glad he had, however.  He was so sick of secrets.

“That’s not—not what you’re supposed to say.  You’re not—” Jonghyun pressed his lips together so hard they turned pale and shook his head again. “Don’t talk like that.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Minhyun asked.  “That I hate you?  That I can’t picture it? I’m not going to lie, Jonghyun.”

 “I know you care,” Jonghyun said.  He furrowed his brow.  “Of course you do.  That’s why I—”

“Why you what?”

“Nothing,” Jonghyun said.  “I don’t know.  You weren’t supposed to find out.  I wanted—I didn’t want you to deal with any of this.” Each phrase was quicker than the last, some mess of an accelerando, until Minhyun reached out and took Jonghyun’s hand again.

He meant that he didn’t want Minhyun to deal with him, and that was still enough to incite Minhyun’s anger.  But he couldn’t watch Jonghyun struggle, not when Minhyun knew how to ground him.

And it worked.

Jonghyun looked down at their entwined hands, and when he continued his words were staccato but measured.

“I want you to have everything,” he said.  “And—and I’m so proud of you.  I’m so, so proud of you, and I couldn’t burden you with anything, not when—If I’d done better, you wouldn’t have ever had—I wouldn’t need the—the surgery, and everything would be—”

He took a shuddering breath and chuckled.  Jonghyun wiped his eyes.

“Look at me,” he said. “I’m a mess.”  His lips twisted into what Minhyun thought was supposed to be a smile. “Sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “You don’t need to say anything. It’s okay.  I don’t expect anything from you.” 

Minhyun had everything to say, but he let Jonghyun finish.

“Really, this is better,” Jonghyun continued.  “What would we have done?  It’s—risky dating anyone, and there wouldn’t have been actual dates or anything, and we’ve known each other for so long, it just would’ve been awkward.”

Minhyun waited, but he didn’t say anything else.  He squeezed Jonghyun’s hand. “Is that really what you think?” he asked, like he didn’t know the answer.

“I can’t think anything else right now,” Jonghyun admitted.  “I really don’t need more reasons to not want the surgery.”

Oh.  It seemed that despite how Minhyun had obsessed over this ever since he found it, he’d still made one fatal miscalculation.  This wasn’t a situation where Minhyun merely had to set Jonghyun’s thoughts on the right path.

Jonghyun was dying.  He needed surgery, and with that came side-effects that filled Minhyun with growing dread.

Everything would be over soon; the requiem was being written.  After the surgery, Jonghyun’s feelings for him would disappear.  It didn’t matter if Minhyun had made some grand realization, not when it was too little, too late. 

Jonghyun’s words stopped Minhyun in his tracks, like a conductor motioning the end of a fermata.

He wished he could kiss Jonghyun and make it all better.  If anyone deserved a fairytale ending, it was him, after everything that had happened.

But Minhyun had learned that life comes bittersweet, more often than not.  They’d become reversal icons, but they’d gotten their first win without him, gone through a lot of firsts without him.

He didn’t love Jonghyun, not in the way that would end his disease.  Maybe one day—but Jonghyun was long out of time.  They couldn’t wait for Minhyun to fall for him, and Minhyun didn’t need the pressure of that hanging over his head either.

They couldn’t race to finish the requiem as the hour of death drew near.

“Don’t worry about us,” Minhyun said.  “It’s more important that you’re healthy. We'll figure it out.”

Minhyun meant it, but it still tasted like a lie.  Jonghyun squeezed his hand, and yeah, he’d definitely seen right through him.

For as well as he knew Jonghyun, Jonghyun knew him right back.

“It’s next week,” he said.  “She—the doctor—wants it done as soon as possible.”

Minhyun’s heart plummeted, through all the floors and into the basement.  It landed in a pile of forgotten laundry.  “I’ll try to come again before it.  And—and after, of course.”

Jonghyun smiled sadly.  “You’re too nice, you know.  I’ve been awful to you.  You shouldn’t just forgive me.”

“I haven’t,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun’s smile faded.  “At least, I don’t think.”  His emotions were haywire, a crash of dissonant chords more akin to thunder than music.

Jonghyun clasped his hands together.  “Then why—?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Everything slowed as Jonghyun processed.  Minhyun gave him the time he needed.  There were so many questions and so much more to say.   He could fill an entire day with all of them, not only about the surgery and their situation, but also all the times something silly or cool had happened, and Minhyun’s first reaction was ‘I can’t wait to tell Jonghyun’ before he remembered.

Minhyun had missed him so much.

But before any of that, he had one final question that couldn't wait.

“Jonghyun?” he asked.  “How high is the risk that you’ll—that something won’t go well and—“ 

Minhyun had watched dramas where characters lost their lives to this surgery, where they’d woken up with no memories of who they’d once loved.

He couldn’t handle losing Jonghyun like that.  A Jonghyun that hated him or didn’t know him didn’t feel like Jonghyun at all.

“It won’t." Jonghyun did his best to smile, and the attempt allowed Minhyun’s heart to return to common time.  “There’s no risk of that.”

Minhyun didn’t ask for anything more.  He believed Jonghyun.  Even in the face of so many lies, Minhyun couldn’t doubt him.

But even if the worst wouldn't happen, that didn't mean they wouldn't lose something. Minhyun would’ve wanted to explore a relationship with Jonghyun. He would’ve wanted to experience loving him.

If Minhyun knew anything, however, it was the Hanahaki, the disease killing Jonghyun, could never be a good thing. No matter his feelings or Jonghyun's or anything, the priority was the surgery.

And so, when Jonghyun moved closer, still tentative, Minhyun reacted accordingly.  He spread his arms, and Jonghyun leaned into them.  Cautious, Minhyun didn’t squeeze too hard; instead, he closed his eyes and appreciated Jonghyun’s soft breaths against his shoulder.

This was enough. It had to be enough.

Minhyun pretended Jonghyun's breaths didn’t grow shakier and shakier, pretended that his own eyes didn’t water.

This had to be a good moment, no matter how much it felt like the ominous grand pause before the final, tragic movement.

 

\--

 

**10 Facts Any Romantic Woman Must Know About Hanahaki Disease**

By: Song Jieun

 

 

Hanahaki Disease* is one of the most popular romantic tropes in movies and dramas, which makes it a perfect topic to celebrate Movie Day.  With these ten facts, you can impress your man with your knowledge as you settle down for a long, relaxing night.

 

**#1: Unrequited Love Causes It**

The Hanahaki flower ( _Clethra Alnifolia_ ) can’t grow without specific hormones and chemical signals that are only present when a person experiences unrequited love.  What are these chemicals? We don’t know, but scientists have found links between Hanahaki and Oxytocin.

**#2: True Love Cures It**

Lee Euijin (Jung Hana) and Kim Sihwan (Hwang Chansung), demonstrated this in the award-winning drama “Blossom Tears.” Lee Euijin’s Hanahaki was cured after an entire year of pining when suave, mysterious Kim Sihwan revealed his love to her in a heartfelt confession. 

What’s more romantic than that? #relationshipgoals

**#3: Those Afflicted Cough up Flowers**

The Hanahaki flower is a gorgeous white-pink cluster of flowers.  Approximately 6 centimeters long, they grow in the lungs. Eventually, these leave the body by falling from the mouth.  Moon Saerom (Han Saebyeol) in the drama “Between Autumn and Winter” created a bouquet and gave them to her boyfriend when she confessed her love.

The flowers are the physical manifestation of love, in its purest, most tragic form, and their scent is said to be the sweetest in the world!

**#4: It Affects Both Women and Men**

Here’s something the dramas and movies get wrong!  Despite popular and historic associations with women, Hanahaki can affect anyone.  So make sure you love your man well!  You wouldn’t want him to suffer from such a heartbreaking disease.

**#5: It’s Rare**

Only 10-20 cases, on average, are diagnosed a year in Korea!  Health officials are unsure why Hanahaki is so rare as compared to unrequited love, but it’s believed there are links between Hanahaki, immune system function, and genetics.

The most recent, famous case is that of Han Geng, a former member of idol group Super Junior.  He was diagnosed in 2008 and returned to China for treatment.  Unfortunately, it’s believed that Han Geng underwent the surgery, and the girl he loved never fell for him in return.

While Han Geng has refused to comment on his past condition, ex-bandmate Kim Heechul is believed to have written the song "Falling Blossoms" about his poor friend.

Check out these lyrics: “From the times you stayed with me/ That scent still remains / This love has deeply settled inside me / The flower is withering”

Do you believe his song “Falling Blossoms” is about his friend?  Let us know in the comments!

**#6: The Flowers Symbolize Love, Purity, and Good Fortune**

Hanahaki flowers are the manifestation of untainted love.  There can be no tricks or lying with Hanahaki, and any person who suffers from it is said to have true intentions and pure feelings.  More recently, Hanahaki flowers have become symbols of luck and good fortune, particularly for finding love. 

Complete Hanahaki flowers sell for upwards of 200 million won!

**#7: It’s Not Only On Television!**

In Kim Suki’s novel _Moonflower,_ the protagonist Moon Saerom suffers from Hanahaki.  Also, in popular idol group NU’EST’s music video "Good Bye Bye," Ren, currently of NU’EST W, is shown throwing up flowers.  Other novels and paintings also include Hanahaki imagery and stories.  View a complete list here and vote for your favorite portrayals!

**#8: The First Case was Recorded during the Iron Age**

Among the artifacts recovered from Korea during that time, there’s an iron plaque engraved with the image of a woman with flowers in her mouth.  While the plaque is partially damaged, the flowers appear similar to Hanahaki flowers!

**#9: Without Love, those Afflicted Require Surgery**

Not everyone gets a fairytale ending with Hanahaki!  Those afflicted require their true love to return their affections.  In the case they don’t, such as in the movie _Blood Flower,_ doctors perform a complicated surgery to save them.  Sometimes, if they wait too long, the surgery is no longer possible and the Hanahaki is fatal.

**#10: Feelings Disappear Post-Surgery**

The surgery leaves devastating effects for the afflicted.  Their pure, tragic love is removed with the Hanahaki flowers, leaving them empty and unfulfilled.  Some even say they can never find true love again, because the type of love that causes Hanahaki can only come from a soulmate.

 

Have you ever heard of something more beautiful and tragic than Hanahaki?  It’s the perfect pick for a long movie night full of tears and cuddling!  And who knows, maybe your man will fall in love with you as deeply as those who suffer from Hanahaki do!

 

*This article does not offer medical advice.  Should you or someone you know experience the symptoms of Hanahaki, please consult your doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But seriously, [check out this art!!](http://yoodoyoo.tumblr.com/post/180097356392/only-did-this-after-retiring-from-realistic)
> 
> As always Minhyun's POV got some references in it--mainly to Mozart's Requiem in D minor and The Green Ribbon retold by Alvin Schwartz, which is a children's story about a girl who always wore a ribbon and when she finally took it off, her head came off with it. Not sure if that story is common in a lot of places or just where i grew up, but i thought it fit ^^ 
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me as things got oddly turbulent ^^ This is only my second ever long fic and my first for nu'est and with multiple povs, so there's a bit of trial and error, especially bc i don't have a beta


	12. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know. I’m not worried,” Minhyun said, and maybe if Jonghyun didn't know him so well, he could've believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a hospital scene and some vague discussions about the surgery

They’d gone over this before, but Jonghyun appreciated the repetition. A nurse or a tech or someone—Jonghyun couldn’t remember how he’d introduced himself, only that he wasn’t the surgeon Jonghyun had met last week—walked him through the procedure one last time.

The man was fresh-faced but tired. Jonghyun was good at reading between the lines, trained from years of working in a perpetually overworked industry. The nurse buried it well, and Jonghyun appreciated that, got the impression he had the man’s full attention and sympathy and worry.

“Is there any way I can leave sooner?” Jonghyun asked, interjecting after the man told him he’d spend between six and ten days in the hospital. “If I rest at home?”

“We’ll need you to stay for at least six,” he said. “If there are no complications, you may be able to leave then.”

Jonghyun grimaced. He didn’t know how it had escaped his mind that surgeries were invasive, were a lot different than a ‘poof’ and it’s over, but the more he thought about the past year, the more he realized he’d ignored a lot of things, over and over.

The CT scan of his lung showed a white mass of roots tangled with his lungs, creeping into his airways.  His surgeon had said if it had spread much further, there might not have been a way to save him. As it was, Dr. Yoo predicted they would need to remove a small piece of his lung to ensure the plant wouldn’t grow again.

(Jonghyun hadn’t known that was a thing surgeons could do, but his horrified, increasingly stupid thoughts about how he’d never breathe again were defused when he learned it actually wasn’t super rare, or at least, less rare than Hanahaki.)

“Don’t worry too much,” the nurse offered, and Jonghyun tried to smile his thanks back. “Dr. Yoo specializes with Hanahaki. She’s the best surgeon you can get.”

“I’m sure,” Jonghyun said. It came out more solid than he expected. “But are you sure there’s nothing you can predict for the recovery?”

“One step at a time," the nurse said. "You don't have to worry about that yet." 

Jonghyun didn’t like that answer, but he couldn’t hope for much else. Dr. Yoo had already told him she couldn’t predict it until after the surgery.

“We need you to sign these for us. Take as long as you need to read them.”

Jonghyun nodded a few times, the motion jerky and small, and took the sheets. He tapped the pen against the table as he skimmed them. They were disclosure and consent forms mainly; agreements that prevented him from suing his surgeon or the hospital should the surgery not go as well as planned.

Dr. Yoo had said he’d feel pretty terrible the first couple weeks after the surgery. Not only did he have the physical effects to handle, but he'd need time to adapt to the emotional side too.

She wanted him to meet with a therapist a couple times after the surgery. She’d said it was because of the hormonal fluctuations, but just like the last doctor, she’d made it clear that what he’d done had been all but asking to die.

Even though that had never crossed his mind, Jonghyun couldn't deny that he’d spent over a year hiding a disease he’d known was terminal. Part of him had to question why, and no matter the true reason, maybe meeting with a therapist wasn’t the worst idea, at least for a couple weeks.

He signed the pages and flipped to the final one.

It was an agreement to adhere to hospital policy. One of the numbers was highlighted. Jonghyun rested his fingers under the number and asked why.

It was about hospital visitor policy, but it didn’t say anything too unexpected; mainly that the hospital had the right to decide when patients were capable of seeing visitors.

“Ah,” the nurse said. “I nearly forgot—our policy is that any person who impacts your disease can’t visit during the recovery period.”

Jonghyun wished he could misunderstand that, but it was pretty clear who he meant. The 'person who impacts his disease’ wasn’t particularly a title he wanted to use for Minhyun, but well, it was true. He'd woken up with a fever the day after Minhyun left and spent a solid chunk of time bent over the toilet. 

“How long is that?” Jonghyun asked. They’d already told him there was a critical period after the surgery during which he’d require intense monitoring.

“Until you're moved to an out-patient room,” the nurse said. "That likely won't be until the day you plan to leave."

Jonghyun’s fingers clenched the corner of the table until it left a painful imprint in his skin. “So—the entire time I’m here. He—they, I mean.” He winced at his slip. “They can’t visit me?”

“It’s hospital policy to avoid causing our patients unnecessary distress.”

Jonghyun tried to hide his distress at the news. “I told them they could. Is it okay if I call them before—? We’re friends. I know it’s…but they’re not a bad—”

“You can have a few minutes,” the nurse said, taking pity on him and interrupting. “I need to process your paperwork anyway. Just please follow the signs to one of our designated areas for phone calls.”

“Thank you,” Jonghyun said. “Really.”

The nurse shot him a sympathetic smile, and Jonghyun stood. His chair scraped against the tile, and the sound of his steps filled the hallway, underlined by different beeps and the rumble of the air conditioning. 

There were goosebumps on Jonghyun’s arms. 

Minhyun’s name had dropped from one of his favorite contacts, replaced by friends he spoke to rarely, but it was at the top of his messaging app. They'd promised to see each other again before the surgery, but it hadn’t happened.

Jonghyun missed him, but he was also glad. Wanna One only had a month left, and Minhyun owed it to their fans and his other members to put his all into it.

Jonghyun leaned against the wall and scanned for anyone nearby before he pressed call. It rang a couple times, enough that Jonghyun questioned if Minhyun could answer. His heart sank. This might be too little, too late, but Jonghyun really didn’t want to have to leave a message. Not about this. 

He tilted his head back against the wall, ignoring the cold stone against his neck. The vending machine beside him whirled. Maybe this was the best, no matter what his plummeting heart believed.

“Hello?” It wasn’t Minhyun. 

Jonghyun parroted the greeting, stuttering with surprise. He’d been so prepared for Minhyun’s voice that he couldn’t place who’d answered. “Who is this?”

“Seongwoo. Minhyun left his phone laying around, and I didn’t want him to miss your call.” 

“Okay,” Jonghyun said, the word drawn out and uncertain. “Thanks.”

“How are you?” Seongwoo asked. “Is everything okay? I mean—if you don’t want to say, it’s—”

“It’s fine,” Jonghyun said. He didn’t want pity. “I’m fine. Just need to let Minhyunnie know something.”

“I’m glad you’re talking to him again,” Seongwoo said. “He’s been happier.” Jonghyun wanted to discredit that so badly, to push it away because he’d only given Minhyun bad news since they’d started talking again.

“Happier?” he echoed.  What did Seongwoo know anyway? He hadn't even known Minhyun for two years. 

“He gets way too sulky sometimes—and here he is!” Seongwoo’s voice grew brighter. “Jonghyun’s on the line.” 

Minhyun said something, but even though Jonghyun strained, he didn’t catch it. 

Seongwoo’s voice was still loud and clear. “If you don’t want me answering, don’t leave it laying around. Figured this was better than missing—okay, okay, fine.”

There was a jostling sound, likely as the phone was passed. Jonghyun’s heart ached in his chest, so painful it blocked his throat. Seongwoo had only known Minhyun for under two years, but they were teasing and joking, and wow, when had Jonghyun gotten territorial about this? Neither Minhyun nor Seongwoo deserved his unwarranted jealousy.

“Hello?”  Minhyun’s voice was tentative and unsure and not what Jonghyun really wanted. He missed the easy push-pull of their relationship, the way everything flowed before this happened. He'd even take the casual bickering like what Minhyun and Seongwoo had.

“Sorry for calling with no warning.” Jonghyun’s voice was rougher than he liked. He grimaced even as he said it; they’d spent years bursting in on each other without caring, and now here they were.

Minhyun made a dismissive sound from the back of his throat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—I’m at the hospital, and they’re—y’know, going over stuff…” He trailed off, but Minhyun didn’t speak, clearly waiting for him to get to the point. Jonghyun cleared his throat. “It’s their policy that, uh”—Any Person Who Impacts His Disease—“you can’t visit me while I’m here. And I know, I know I said you could, so I wanted to call you.”

He would've never forgiven himself if he hadn't, and Minhyun had spent six (to ten) days thinking Jonghyun had specified not wanting to see him.

“Oh.” Minhyun tried to sound as neutral as he could, but Jonghyun’s heart ached at the disappointment that still came through. “That’s okay. Whatever they want; it’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun said, intelligently. “Anyway, I just called to let you know, so if you’re busy...” As if Jonghyun didn’t have so much more to say to him. Maybe Jonghyun just knew he wouldn’t be able to say it, no matter what Minhyun deserved.

“Wait,” Minhyun said. “Can we talk for a bit?”

Jonghyun took a shuddering breath, so loud Minhyun had to hear it.  “Of course.”

He’d stay on the line for as long as Minhyun wanted.

Minhyun didn’t say anything, and the silence stretched out between them. It said something that Jonghyun enjoyed even just the sound of Minhyun’s breathing over the line, but eventually, a small smile played on his lips.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked. 

“Shut up,” Minhyun said. There were tears in his voice, and Jonghyun wished he could apologize for making him cry twice in a week. Minhyun had made it clear he didn’t want Jonghyun to apologize, that he didn’t need to. Jonghyun would honor that.

He went for comfort instead. “We’re going to figure it out,” he said. “I promise.”

Jonghyun meant it. He didn’t care how this surgery affected his feelings for Minhyun—if he cared about Nu’est or about his friends or about almost anything, that looped back to also caring about Minhyun. 

That was how it worked. That had to be how it worked.

“I know. I’m not worried,” Minhyun said, and maybe if Jonghyun didn't know him so well, he could've believed him..

“It’s fine that you are,” Jonghyun said. “I'm scared too.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that I would’ve—if you had…”

“You were right that I should’ve told you. And about everything else too. I treated you horribly."

Minhyun didn’t deny it, and Jonghyun was glad. It was freeing, in a way, to be able to take responsibility. If he did better from now on, maybe it would eat away some of his guilt.

"At least you won’t be hurting anymore.” Minhyun sounded like he wanted to convince himself.

Jonghyun didn’t know how to say that he would rather hurt forever then force him to deal with pain too. 

“I wish--" Minhyun continued but cut off. "I don’t know.”

“Tell me,” Jonghyun pleaded. He was so sick of secrets, his own and otherwise.

A pause, then finally, “I still don't understand why you nevver told me. Is it because I wasn't there?”

“No,” Jonghyun said, immediately. His voice was sharper than he wanted. “You’re—none of this is your fault. It’s all on me.”

He had never, ever blamed Minhyun for not loving him back. Even when they were teenagers, Jonghyun had never resented him for it.

“I need a reason,” Minhyun said. “Or—or I’m going to think about this forever and wonder what I could’ve done differently.”

Jonghyun understood that sentiment. They’d all laid awake before, wishing on stars and trying to figure out where everything went wrong.

“I never thought you’d want more,” he said. His voice was slow, following the directions of his thoughts. “And I like making you happy, and I didn’t want to give that up.”

He never, ever wanted Minhyun to be anything but happy. That was one of the few ways he’d continued to fail, even after they rose from their own graves.

“You deserve more than that—someone who loves you back. Why didn’t you move on?”

Jonghyun had dated before. There’d been a couple girls and guys over the years, but those relationships had been stifled, controlled by his schedule and by his lack of interest in maintaining them.

“It just never happened,” he said. “But it’s not like I was miserable. It was okay.”

His feelings for Minhyun were just facts. Facts that hid deep in his head only to masquerade around just when Jonghyun thought he might’ve forgotten them. He’d had his share of shameful moments—dreams of lips against his and then against his neck and then sliding down, down,  _down_ —but he’d always been proud of their relationship, just like he was proud of how much he loved all the members.

“Promise me you won’t blame yourself for this,” Jonghyun said. “I want all of us to be happy. I just—you’re different. You’re special.”

"I thought I'd get to see you again."

“Last time was perfect,” Jonghyun said softly. "More than perfect."

Jonghyun couldn't picture a better night than that. Despite his anger, Minhyun had stayed until the others got back, and they’d pushed aside their initial surprise so they could spend a night together, just the five of them. 

They’d all seemed shocked when Jonghyun didn’t pull Minhyun off to talk more alone, but for as much as he loved Minhyun, as much as he wished they’d been able to have more, it felt even more right to have the five of them all together again.

In the end, it wasn’t an extraordinary night by any means, and Jonghyun had fallen asleep earlier than he would’ve liked, but it was the memory he’d go into surgery with.

Even if when he woke up, Minhyun no longer made him as happy as he did now, Jonghyun would have that memory to remind him that Minhyun deserved everything. Jonghyun believed in a lot of things that weren’t tangible. If this had to be one of them, it would be.

“I’m glad,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun smiled sadly at his strained sincerity. 

“I mean it that we’ll figure this out,” Jonghyun said. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Minhyun said. “Always.”

Jonghyun’s throat worked.  “They’re going to need me back soon,” he warned. “But Minhyun…”

Jonghyun had never been great with expressing himself through words. The only method he’d ever figured out was sitting down and bleeding into lyrics, but most of those were incomprehensible scribbles, buried in a small black notebook in his room.  The ones that cut too deep had never gone any further than that.

Minhyun deserved for him to try, at least.

“I don’t regret it. That I love you.”  He hadn’t said that to Minhyun, not since any of this started. Even for how much they used to say it on camera, their truest ‘I love you’s went unspoken, because it was a fact that didn't always need to be reinforced. “No matter what, okay?"

Jonghyun’s voice cracked, and he pressed his lips together. That was as far as he’d make it. He hoped it was enough.

"I love you too," Minhyun said, and even if it wouldn't save Jonghyun, that didn't mean it wasn't true. Minhyun had always been quicker to pull that line, but Jonghyun didn't doubt him for a second. Minhyun loved him as much as a friend ever could.

This might be the last time Jonghyun cried over Minhyun. He hoped it was the last time he made Minhyun cry too.

“I have to go,” Jonghyun said. It had already been more than a few minutes. “But you'll see me after, yeah? It’ll be six days.”

Only six days. Call him an optimist, he guessed.

“Just try to keep me away,” Minhyun said. Jonghyun smiled, and they said their goodbyes.

They’d been through so much and overcome so much. This had to work out.

Jonghyun had spent over a year running and denying the Hanahaki, and dramatically longer hiding his love for Minhyun. He’d never been one to believe in fate and destiny, but he’d been tested on that belief before.

Part of him never could fully believe it was chance that he’d met the other members, that they’d been chosen by accident, from different parts of the country and of the world.  They’d gathered in Seoul and were selected again to fail and fail and fail, all together, and then fight for their own success and win more than they’d ever imagined. 

Jonghyun didn’t believe in fate or destiny or anything like that, but they’d proved they were good at latching on and refusing to let go of each other. They’d been thrown together in Seoul, in China, in Japan, and very nearly into disbandment. No one had expected them to succeed.

And if they’d done it through that, Jonghyun had to believe they could do it again.

They’d figure it out. They had to.

 

**Rewind**

“We’ve got school tomorrow, you know,” Minhyun says. Jonghyun’s stretched out on the floor, taking up most of the walking room in their bedroom. 

Well, at least he appreciates how clean it is now. Sujin told him before he came here to not nag too much, because he’s more like an ajumma than a teenager, and if he’s not careful, they’ll all treat him like one, but Minhyun had finally snapped last week. He’d climbed down from his top bunk the other day and stepped directly on a dirty sock—Dongho’s dirty sock, although he’d denied that—and Minhyun made everyone help clean.

That’s the only reason Jonghyun’s face can be so close to the carpet in the first place.

Jonghyun doesn’t answer, and Minhyun’s not too surprised. He places a foot directly on Jonghyun’s back and steps down.

“Get off!” Jonghyun wiggles around and groans when Minhyun only adds more weight. “This is why no one likes you.” The light of his DS illuminates his face in the darkness.

“Would you two shut up?” Minki hisses. “Some of us are trying to sleep.” Someone—it has to be Seungcheol because Dongho's still snoring—makes a protesting noise. Seungcheol flips over and sighs, dropping his pillow on top of his head.

Minhyun crouches, wincing at the burn in his muscles, and leans over Jonghyun to get a better look at his game. His hand rests on Jonghyun’s back, but in the dark, he brushes a ticklish spot, and Jonghyun thrashes under him. One of his limbs—Minhyun’s not sure which, as they all go in different directions—hits a bedpost. 

It makes a loud crack, and even Dongho’s snoring stops in its aftermath.

“Out,” Minki says. “Both of you.” And Minhyun’s learned several times over to listen to Minki when he’s grumpy, so he offers Jonghyun a hand as he stands. Jonghyun swipes it away, grumbling. 

“If this is broken, you’re buying me a new one,” he says once they’re outside, waving the DS. Minhyun winces. So that’s what made such a loud sound.

Jonghyun looks at it, tilting his head. He’s got bags under his eyes, and his hair is fluffy and freshly washed. Unlike Minhyun, he’s already changed into pajama pants and a ratty t-shirt.

“I think it’s fine,” Jonghyun says. There’s still an undertone of annoyance in his voice, but Minhyun had expected worse.

“Why were you still up?” Minhyun asks. Practice had been particularly grueling, first vocal, then dance and more dance and more dance. He needs it, but still, it sucked.

Minhyun’s been dancing for two months and is all lanky limbs and two left feet. Jonghyun assures him he’s not doing awfully, but Minhyun’s only real respite is that Dongho dances like he’s got three left feet and Minki’s way of moving sometimes confuses even their teacher.

“Well, I wanted to beat my high score.” Jonghyun shows Minhyun the Game Over screen, still prompting Jonghyun to ‘press A to start again.’

“Sorry,” Minhyun says.

Jonghyun sighs. “It’s fine.” He sets the DS on the windowsill. “Are you tired?” he asks.

Minhyun is. His feet drag, his muscles ache, and he’d planned to quickly change and then sleep until he’d spotted Jonghyun sprawled across the floor.

“Are you?” he echoes.

“Nah,” Jonghyun says. “Want to stay up with me?”

Minhyun perks up a bit. Jonghyun’s a loner outside practice. He’d never been anything but friendly, but he’d also taken time to warm up to Minhyun and initiate conversation and everything like that. Even now that Jonghyun has, he appreciates his solitude too. This is the first time he’s ever explicitly asked only Minhyun to join him.

Minhyun blinks his exhaustion away. “Sure,” he says. He grins. “Let’s sneak out and do something crazy.”

That’s definitely not what Jonghyun had planned, though Minhyun’s not sure what he wants to do anyway. Usually, when Minhyun stumbles on Jonghyun in their free time, he’s curled up in some ridiculous nook, playing a game or reading a manga.

Jonghyun laughs. “I don’t know about that,” he says. He yawns, and his eyelids flutter like he’s exhausted, but he can’t be if he’s asking Minhyun to stay up with him.

Minhyun strikes a pose like he’s a secret agent. “Come on, we could do such cool things without the others.”

A small smile crossed Jonghyun’s lips. “Without them?”

“Dongho can’t do secret missions. He looks like he’s forty—”

“Wouldn’t that give him a disguise?”

“—and Minki’s so loud, all the time—”

“You’re louder.”

Minhyun gasps. “I’m hurt,” he says. “At least I didn’t kick you out of your own room.”

“Yeah, you only got me kicked out of my own room,” Jonghyun says. “C’mon, let’s go on a walk.”

Minhyun brightens. “Sure,” he says. “To where?”

“I dunno. Practice room? That’s normally where I go when I can’t sleep.”

Minhyun cocks his head to the side. “You do this a lot?”

“Nah,” Jonghyun says. “Just when I can’t sleep.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Nothing important."

Minhyun frowns. He’s pretty certain Jonghyun’s lying. His voice is too airy, too casual. There’s a reason he’s not happily asleep, and Minhyun wants to know it. 

Jonghyun leads him to the dance studios, passing the one Minhyun’s been in most and going to one next to it. The mirror has a big crack down it.

“Kahi noona told me it cracked because all the dance studios are on one side, and the dancing is making the building fall apart.” Jonghyun widens his eyes, then grins. “But I think she was kidding.”

Minhyun giggles. That’s a ridiculous story, and it’s a little weird to imagine Kahi saying it. He’s never actually met her, only seen her around, and she’s... intimidating. It’s odd to think Jonghyun’s talked to her casually before.

Jonghyun takes a seat, leaning back against the mirror, and Minhyun joins him. Their shoulders brush together.

“Raina noona told me it cracked cause Kahi noona threw something at it,” Jonghyun says. His voice goes pensive. “I don’t think she was kidding.”

Minhyun laughs, and after a second, Jonghyun joins in. 

“Noona’s scary,” Minhyun says. “I believe it.” He closes his eyes, dropping his head onto Jonghyun’s shoulder.

“I’m not carrying you back. I’ll leave you here.” Jonghyun makes no move to shove Minhyun off.

“Just get me a blanket.”

“Get it yourself. You shoulda said if you’re tired.”

“You asked me to come,” Minhyun says. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then Jonghyun groans and rests his head against the mirror. “I’ve got an exam tomorrow.”

“You’ll do well.”

“I doubt that,” he grumbles. “It’s my history class.” Jonghyun’s hand trails up Minhyun's neck only to pull his hair.

“Ow!” Minhyun jerks his head up.“What was that?”

Jonghyun shoots him a playful smile and drops his head on Minhyun’s shoulder.

He shrugs it, but Jonghyun doesn’t move. Minhyun rolls his eyes and accepts it. “You’re annoying."

“That's rich, coming from you.”

Minhyun snorts, and Jonghyun presses his grin into Minhyun’s shoulder.

“Just don’t droll on me,” Minhyun says, but he really doesn’t mind this. It’s a little cold, and Jonghyun’s warm. He doesn’t protest when Minhyun wraps an arm around his waist, and Minhyun rests his head on top of Jonghyun’s.

For a few minutes, there's silence, and Minhyun's eyes grow heavy as he starts to nod off.

“Minhyun?” Jonghyun asks, and he blinks awake. Minhyun yawns, and Jonghyun does too. “What do you want to do? Like, in life?”

Minhyun furrows his brow. “Be an idol,” he says. That’s why he’s here. That’s why they’re both there.

“Why?” Jonghyun asks.

“Why not? I like singing a lot,” he says. “And we’ll be famous!” He’s loved singing for as long as he could remember, and he’s dealt with friends and Sujin telling him to shut up more times than he can count. Even here, they sometimes bang on the bathroom door and tell him he’s showering too loudly.

“I hate singing,” Jonghyun says. “I suck at it.”  He pulls his legs close to him and sits up so he can wrap his arms around his knees. Minhyun loosens the arm around Jonghyun’s back but doesn’t remove it.

“You’re not that bad. Besides, you’re a rapper.”  Jonghyun’s rap is really cool. Minhyun wants to be able to do that too someday, but for now, he’s been told to only focus on singing. Jonghyun’s the exact opposite; Minhyun’s only heard him sing two times ever.

The second was just a couple days ago, when Jonghyun had inexplicably joined them at vocal practice. He’d mumbled that they’d given him vocal exercises to practice, and they’d wanted to check his progress. Jonghyun had sulked the rest of the day.

“I never want to sing,” Jonghyun says. He rests his chin on his knee, all curled up into a ball. “Some idol I’m going to be, right?”

Minhyun wants to say something about how he’ll be the best dancer and rapper, but he’s not sure how to get the words out. He settles for listening instead. 

“I overheard the vocal trainers talking about me today,” Jonghyun says. “They said they don’t get how I’m still this bad. That I work hard, but I don’t get any better. They’re gonna give up on me.”

“Do you do the exercises?” Minhyun asks.

Jonghyun moves his knee, so his head nods.

“Want me to do them with you?”

Jonghyun shakes his head. “I don’t like doing them around anyone.”

“You’re really not that bad.”

“The two new trainees are moving in tomorrow,” Jonghyun says. “And then Pledis has auditions.”

Minhyun had nearly forgotten about the new trainees, and the idea of auditions weirds him out. "They’re even doing some outside of Korea, right?”  Some western country—America?—was mentioned at some point.

“What if they're better than me?

Minhyun blinks. “What?”

“I’ve been here for over a year, and I can’t sing. Now they're doing _auditions_ for _singers_.”

“You’re not a singer—”

“But I should be better at it,” Jonghyun insists. “I’ve been working on it.”

“You don’t have to be good at everything.”

“My family tells people I’m a singer,” he says, as though Minhyun didn't even speak. “I mean—what else would they say? Who wants to say their son’s a rapper?”

"Once we debut, it won't be a problem," Minhyun promises. Once they debut, the whole world will be their stage. Minhyun can't really imagine that. It's like a fever dream, but he knows it's coming. He feels it. 

"Maybe you're right," Jonghyun says. "Because we'll be famous, and we won't worry about anything then, right?"

A spark of excitement ignites in Minhyun, but before he can agree, Jonghyun yawns again. Minhyun smiles. "We should go back," he says. "You're tired, yeah?"

"Not as much as you," Jonghyun says, peevishly, but he follows Minhyun back to their room without arguing. 

After he changes, Minhyun slides in beside Jonghyun, who groans but doesn't dare protest too loudly. 

"You have your own bed," he hisses. 

"Mhm," Minhyun says. "But I can't sleep. I need you to sing to me."

_"What?"_

"That's your job now," Minhyun says. "You're in charge of it."

Jonghyun scoffs. "You'll never sleep again. _I'll_ never sleep again."

"You'll get better at it," Minhyun says. "But fine, I'll do it tonight." 

 

\--

 

“Drink?” Seongwoo had two opened bottles of soju, his fingers wrapped loosely around their necks. He raised a shot glass at Minhyun, a second tucked near his palm.

Minhyun blinked, like he was confused. “I don’t drink.”

Seongwoo snorted because one, that’s a lie, and two— “You’ve been staring at the wall since we got home. Have a drink.”

“A little early for drinking, don't you think?”

“Time’s not real when you’ve been awake for over thirty hours. Besides, it’s understandable that you’re not okay, Minhyun.” Seongwoo didn’t think Minhyun had slept after Jonghyun's call last night.  He looked like Hell. “And we’ve got a schedule early tomorrow. Might as well get this out of the way.”

“Are you saying I drink my pain away? That’s healthy.” Minhyun took one of the bottles anyway but set it on the coffee table. Seongwoo sank down next to him. The light streaming in the window was kinda ruining the mood. “Why are you even in here?” Minhyun asked.

“Hey, could be worse. You’re not drinking alone.” Seongwoo took a shot and winced at the burn. He ignored the second question. There was no need to admit Sungwoon and Jaehwan were really fucking worried for Minhyun and had called Seongwoo in since apparently, he could help.

He betted they wouldn’t approve of his methods but fuck it. There were situations that could be handled appropriately, and then there was this situation.

“What are you drinking for then?”

“Normal stuff,” Seongwoo said. “I’m already sick of guessing how long Fantagio’s gonna treat me like their golden boy before forgetting me, and I’m not even back at Fantagio yet.”

“Your fans won’t let them,” Minhyun said. “And you’ve already got the drama lined up.”

“Yet here I am: still worrying.”

Minhyun huffed, but it wasn’t really amused. Seongwoo took it as him agreeing.

“And that’s why we’re drinking together.” Seongwoo held his bottle up in a toast. Minhyun picked his up too and clanked them together. 

“I need a chaser.”

“Wimp,” Seongwoo taunted, but he went to their fridge and came back with a can of soda.

Minhyun flicked the aluminum sides to lessen the chance of it fizzing over.

“Isn’t that a myth?” Seongwoo asked, like it mattered.

“Probably. I’ve always done it.”

That was fair. Seongwoo waited as Minhyun took a shot—and by took the shot, Seongwoo meant failed to do it right—then followed it with a sip of soda. He still grimaced at the taste.

“You really do suck at drinking,” Seongwoo said. “Can’t believe I used to think idols were cool.”

Seongwoo had known the guys in Astro somewhat well, but they’d always been their own group, and no matter how much he talked to them, he’d always been on the outside. 

“You’re an idol.” Minhyun rolled his eyes.

Seongwoo laughed. “Point taken,” he said. He poured a second shot, but after a moment of deliberation, passed it to Minhyun. “Did you know I never really planned on being one?” Seongwoo had always wanted to act over everything, even after he’d fallen in love with dancing.

“I guessed.” Minhyun shrugged. “You’ve always said you’re more of an actor.”

“Fantagio just told me one day that I was going on Produce. And I mean, it worked out well but yeah. Hope fans won’t be too disappointed when I’m not one.”

“Your happiness comes first,” Minhyun said. “There’s no other way to do it.”

Seongwoo laughed bitterly. “I’m starting to think that’s impossible.”

“You’ll get there,” Minhyun said. “It’ll be worth it one day.”

 Normally Seongwoo would make a stupid joke back, would say Minhyun is what makes him happy or some shit like that. Tonight it didn’t come out. “When was it for you?” he asked. “Or—is it?”

Minhyun stopped short. He blinked a few times and took a sip of soda—ignoring the soju, Seongwoo noted, with a bit of amusement. Minhyun really did dislike drinking.

“I don’t know if there was a ‘when?’ I just never wanted to lose what we were doing.”

“I think I get that,” Seongwoo said. His voice was soft, more vulnerable than he’d intended. He’d had many a family member—pre-Wanna One, at least—remind him that he’d live a much easier life if he gave up on acting and picked up an office job instead. 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without them,” Minhyun said. His voice was slow, and his eyes had the nostalgic glimmer of a memory. “There was one time—in 2016.  We knew back then it was gonna be our last comeback, you know? And Canvas didn’t do well.”

“Is this some tragic-ass story?” Seongwoo complained. “Don’t be the pitiable drunk.”

“Fine.” Minhyun pouted, and Seongwoo wondered just how much he was feeling his two shots.

Minhyun didn't say anything else.

“Aren’t you going to speak?”

“You’re annoying,” Minhyun said. "And no, you said you didn’t want to hear it.”

There was a lot he could say in response to that, but Seongwoo rolled his eyes and waited. Minhyun never left silence hanging around for too long.

“They just always know what I need,” Minhyun said. “Do you know what Dongho gave me?”

Seongwoo shook his head.

“Here, look.” Minhyun fumbled with his wallet until he got it open. He slipped a card from it. “Don't tell him I still have it, okay? But it’s one of his photocards, that bastard. He gave it to me after Produce because--well, you know.”

Seongwoo laughed as he took it. Minhyun hardly ever cursed, and his indignant anger over a photocard he _kept in his wallet_ was fucking hilarious. 

Back then had been a rush of giddiness and change and new surroundings for Seongwoo. He didn’t remember much about Minhyun, though something in the early days had made them all think he was considerably different than his actual personality.

If Seongwoo had paid more attention back then—or perhaps just had known Minhyun better than the façade he built on a reality television show—maybe he would've picked up more on everything.

Seongwoo flipped the photocard around in his hand. It was a drawing of Dongho, which was pretty cool.

“He wrote something on it, but we were really trashed,” Minhyun said. A laugh leaped out of Seongwoo when he saw a messy, illegible scribble. “None of us remember what he meant to write.”

“You? Trashed?” Seongwoo asked. He scoffed as he passed the photocard back. Minhyun put it back into his wallet.

“That’s the most I ever drank,” Minhyun said. “We thought Nu’est was disbanding, but then our songs started charting, and we drank even more ‘cause there was still a chance.”

Seongwoo didn’t know what to say. He’d faced failure, over and over and over, but he’d always paired it with loneliness. To hide his inability to respond, Seongwoo poured a shot and took it, then offered a second to Minhyun, who hesitated before he accepted.

After downing some of his chaser, Minhyun stared at Seongwoo for a little longer than normal.

“What is it?” Seongwoo asked.

Another short silence. 

“I think that’s Jonghyun’s problem,” Minhyun said, finally, and fuck, somehow Seongwoo had forgotten why Minhyun was out there, why he was drinking. Jonghyun was getting surgery like, now, and his feelings for Minhyun would never be the same.

“I don’t know if he’s ever found a way to make him happy—except by making us happy. But that’s not how it works.”

Seongwoo could tell Minhyun had come to some realization--a tipsy one, but still. He fell silent, brooding with his can of soda still in his hands.

The thing was, Seongwoo understood what Minhyun meant, at least a little. He’d been as curious (and pissed off) as everyone that first day on Produce 101, and he’d wanted to see what idols with five years of experience could do. 

The first thing Jonghyun had done was nearly cry as Kahi explained how she’d once trained with him.

It had been a quick judgment, but Seongwoo vividly remembered thinking that Jonghyun, with how he blinked too fast and couldn't meet anyone’s eyes, was long burned out.

Jonghyun had proven him wrong, of course, but maybe Minhyun was right. 

“Can I ask you something?” Seongwoo asked. Minhyun looked up, blinking, and okay, yeah, he was definitely feeling the drinks. “Do you regret any of this?”

The diplomatic answer was ‘no, of course not.’  But Seongwoo hoped Minhyun trusted him enough to give him a little more.  He tried to steel himself in the event Minhyun said something about how he wished he’d never made Wanna One. Seongwoo had appreciated the past year; it would suck if Minhyun regretted it. 

Minhyun took a minute before answering. “Sometimes I regret how young we were,” he said, and okay, he was thinking of a much longer timeline than Seongwoo. “Aaron hyung seemed old back then, but he was only nineteen.”

Nineteen was Jinyoung’s age, and when Seongwoo tried to picture him as the oldest, he balked.

“I’m worried for Guanlinnie. He’s going to be a leader next year, and he’s really not much older than Jonghyun was. But he’s got us, at least. I wanted to at least be there for them.”

Minhyun was started to get a little harder to understand, but Seongwoo didn’t try to stop him.

“He still does that thing Jonghyun taught him—the pen thing.”

Seongwoo nodded, as though he had any idea what that meant.

“I don’t want him to put everything into leading and then have nothing left,” Minhyun said. “He deserves to be happy no matter how he does, and he works so hard. I don't want--I'm worried for him.”

“Guanlin?  Or Jonghyun?” Seongwoo asked. He’d gotten more than a little lost from Minhyun's vocal circles and how Seongwoo's shots swirled together in his brain. From the way Minhyun furrowed his brow, it seemed he had too.

Seongwoo regretted getting him to drink, but it was probably good for him to get this out. Maybe Minhyun would've stayed silent without it.

“How different do you think we’d be if this never happened?” Minhyun asked. He cocked his head to the side, and it was oddly endearing. Seongwoo laughed a little. “Is it because we’re idols?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Seongwoo said. He laughed more. Minhyun was weird as all hell when he wanted to be, but seeing him this all over the place was a rare experience.

Even with the laughter, Seongwoo failed to ignore the quiet nudge that pointed out he did know what Minhyun meant.

Minhyun was so fucking good at turning emotions off for the camera. He and his other members had decided early on that they wouldn’t interact in public, and they’d maintained that in a way that seemed easy. Seongwoo wasn’t certain he could’ve avoided just saying ‘fuck it’ and doing whatever he wanted, to hell with the consequences.

That had to come from being an idol, and Seongwoo was sure there were other things too. Minhyun was asking how much of him was a product of this industry. 

Seongwoo couldn’t fathom an answer, but he had to try.

“Does it matter?” he asked.“You’re here, and it’s like you said. You found what you wanted.”

Minhyun breathed out heavily, leaning forward to put his head in his hands. Seongwoo winced. Okay, so maybe not the best answer.

“But why didn't he?” Minhyun asked. “Why am I here, but Jonghyun--Jonghyun was in love with me for years, and now he’s in the hospital, and it’ll be months until he’s better. He's not happy. He can't be.”  Minhyun’s palms were pressed so tightly to his eyes that it had to hurt. 

Seongwoo pulled his hands away, and Minhyun blinked, likely until his vision returned to normal.

He looked at Seongwoo like he held answers. Seongwoo wished he did. "You can't blame yourself for that, though," he said. "No matter what."

"I just don't get it," Minhyun said. "Everything's so different now, for all of us, but he seems the same, even though everything's different. It's not supposed to feel weird going back, but now it feels different, and it shouldn't, right? This is weird."

Seongwoo had once been out with his mother and recognized on the street. It had been thrilling and awkward and wrong and everything he'd ever wanted, all at once. 

"Maybe weird isn't bad," he said. Maybe weird is just weird. 

For a long pause, neither of them spoke. Seongwoo took another shot because like Minhyun, he wanted to have fewer clear thoughts right now, but unlike Minhyun, he could actually hold his alcohol. Finally, Minhyun looked up, and there was a new sense of calm around him. He'd either reached some conclusion in his head or he'd drunk enough that he lost the plot entirely.

"It doesn't matter," Minhyun said. He leaned closer, like he was telling a secret even though he didn't lower his voice. "Jonghyun keeps trying to stop things from being different, but we already are."

Seongwoo couldn't answer, but he hoped he'd been right to tell Minhyun that maybe different wasn't bad. Maybe different was normal and change was normal, no matter how much it fucking sucked sometimes. At least, Seongwoo hoped so. Otherwise, they were all doing something wrong.

The light that had been streaming through the window was down to a small sliver, and by the time either of them spoke again, it would be long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being patient while i had finals ^^ hope you enjoyed!! Also I'd love some feedback--this chapter was super hard for me to write


	13. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Be glad it’s cards,” Dongho said. “At first we were gonna get flowers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a hospital scene

Jonghyun wished he could splash some water on his face or something, anything that could wake him up a little more, but if he’d learned anything from recovery so far, it was that moving had become an Ordeal.

He settled for trying to rub the hazy feeling away, blinking his eyes a bunch of times. Jonghyun adjusted the bed so he wasn’t laying down.

No matter how fuzzy his head was—and part of him questioned whether that was because time had lost some of its meaning or that the medication they were having him take affected it—a smile snuck its way onto his lips.

It would be nice to see everyone. He’d spent four days in the hospital so far, and while the first three were foggy and ran together like paint dribbled down a canvas, the fourth had stretched into years.

They’d had him sit up and cough several times, checking to see how his lungs worked. According to the doctor, he was recovering well, but well, he certainly hadn’t felt alright. That was by far the most painful thing he’d ever done.

The nurse had also helped him walk today, though for all the itch to get out of the hospital and back at home, he hadn’t looked forward to that.  Struggling to walk—he’d been out of breath by the time they reached the hallway—was a slap in the face.

Maybe there was more than one reason as to why everything felt so fuzzy.

His door opened, and despite everything, the sight of first Aaron, then Dongho and Minki, entering the threshold pulled a smile out of him.

They greeted him, and Jonghyun smiled back, ignoring how their eyes darted around to take in the machines and IV and how awful he looked, probably.

“How are you?” Aaron asked, and Jonghyun tried to find a balance between the truth and something that wouldn’t hurt them to hear.

“I’ve been better,” he said. It came out easier than he’d expected, packaged with a smile. It would’ve all been good if Jonghyun hadn’t seen Aaron’s lips twitch as he struggled to maintain a happy expression.

Would it make it better if he told them they didn’t have to pretend?  Jonghyun understood all too well that this sucked for everyone. They didn’t have to wear masks or pretend everything was fine.

It was too early for bad thoughts, too early for him to lose hope, but something in him couldn’t help but wonder if he’d destroyed everything he’d built before. His entire career surrounded his breathing ability—dancing, rapping, all of it, and though the doctor had told him he’d recover fully with time, it was far away now.

So yeah. No one had to pretend there weren't any problems.

“We brought cards for you!” Minki, too, was well-intentioned, his voice bright as he tried to fill the silence. It had the same overly happy effect as the murals painted along the hall of the hospital, all bright colors and abstract shapes.

Jonghyun reached for the cards, taking the stack from Minki. There were a lot of them, ranging from cheap hallmark cards to drawings on small sheets of paper. The first one was a (poor) drawing of a dancing turtle with a Get Well Soon from Soonyoung.

He hadn’t expected this. Jonghyun didn’t read them all now, but he flipped through them. There were some from his members, of course, then one from Seungcheol, and Nayoung and Raina and others too. Jonghyun’s throat closed.

He got the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes under control before he looked up.

They were closer, Minki hovering right at his side. Jonghyun knew what he wanted.  

Jonghyun lifted the arm not attached to an IV, and Minki leaned in for a careful, barely there hug.

“I missed you,” Jonghyun said. He said it a little cutely, and the air from Minki’s chuckle stirred his hair.

“Missed you too.”

He pulled back, and Dongho leaned in for a hug too. “Be glad it’s cards,” Dongho said. “At first we were gonna get flowers.”

Minki sputtered, and Jonghyun laughed lightly. It sent pain running through his chest, but the warm feeling growing in him made it worth it.

“Those would’ve been good too,” Jonghyun said, and he meant it. They were likely more aware of the irony than he would’ve been. Jonghyun had never spent all that much time looking at the Hanahaki flowers, and now even the concept of choking them up seemed unreal.

A lot of the stuff that happened didn’t make sense—which brought up another question.

Jonghyun waited to voice it until after he’d also gotten a gentle hug from Aaron.

“Have you talked to Minhyun?” he asked. He tried to wait patiently as they all exchanged looks and the awkwardness flooded in like fog. “I can’t talk to him until we get out.”

“He told us that,” Aaron said. “We thought it might be better to wait until then to talk about him too.”

“It’s okay,” Jonghyun said. “Really. I’d rather know how he’s doing.”

Jonghyun hadn’t thought much about him until yesterday. Before that, he’d been wrapped up in his own recovery and exhaustion and the worries piling up for his own future.

When Minhyun had first crossed his mind, Jonghyun had wondered if he should feel guilty that it had taken days for him to consider the effects of the surgery past his own physical recovery. Before he’d gotten it, he would’ve. Jonghyun was certain of that.  He was just as certain that he didn’t now.

“He won a daesang—with Wanna One, of course,” Minki said. “Almost cried on stage and everything.”

That was better than anything Jonghyun had expected to hear about him. His smile widened. “They deserve it,” he said. “I’m glad. I wish—can you congratulate him for me?” he asked.

“You’ll get a chance for yourself in a couple days. He’s staying with us for a bit after you come back.”

“Is that a good idea?” Jonghyun asked. “I don’t want him to miss anything.”

Aaron took a seat on the edge of Jonghyun’s bed. One of his hands rested on Jonghyun’s ankle through the sheets. “He’ll be missing stuff if he’s not with you right now.”

“They don’t have too much longer left,” Jonghyun argued. “He’ll be back soon anyway. It’s fine if it’s a few more days. He should—”

“Keep thinking you don’t give a shit about him?” Dongho asked.

“He knows that’s not how it works. I was the one who thought—”

“Do you not want to see him?”

Jonghyun turned to look at Aaron, who raised his eyebrows at whatever confusion was written across Jonghyun’s expression.

“You’re avoiding him. If any of us were in the hospital, you wouldn’t stop him from seeing us.”

“He said you made him promise to come as soon as he could,” Minki said softly.

Yeah, Jonghyun remembered that. He hadn’t lost any memories or anything with the surgery. Just now he didn’t feel so out of time, like everything was so rushed. It wasn’t like he never wanted to see Minhyun again.

“You can’t not see him,” Minki said. “Like, what the hell, Jonghyun? Don’t you miss him?”

_Don’t you care about him anymore_. That was what Minki was asking. That was why his tone touched the sharpness of anger but never quite landed there. His hands clenched into fists, his teeth gritted, but it wasn’t anger at Jonghyun. Nothing pissed Minki off more than his own fears.

“Of course I do.” Jonghyun wouldn’t let Minki’s fears deepen. Minhyun was one of his closest friends. Nearly all of Jonghyun’s most important memories had Minhyun in them.

This really wasn’t Jonghyun avoiding anything.

“Then what’s the question? I thought the surgery was supposed to fix this.”

“It did,” Jonghyun said. “You’re making this into something it isn’t.” Bells rang in the back of his head, reminding him that he shouldn’t be annoyed, that he’d acted so differently the last time they’d talked that this had to be whiplash. His actions—even the ones only from a week ago—were shrouded in fog, too clear to be distant memories but with hazy reasoning, a headspace he could imagine but not reach.

Remembering things from the past—arguments he’d had, cruel pranks he’d tried to pull—had the same strange quality. Jonghyun recalled them and knew he’d done them, but he couldn’t totally imagine it without a decent dose of embarrassment toward his past self.

“Me and Minhyun will be fine,” Jonghyun said. He sucked in a breath to continue, only for it to be a little deeper than he could handle. His chest twang, pain shooting through the right side of his body. Jonghyun couldn’t prevent his face from paling and his hand clenching into a fist.  

Aaron’s hand tightened around his ankle, through the sheets. “This is why I wanted to wait to talk about this,” he said. “Let’s change the subject, alright?”

Minki and Dongho looked a little chagrined, and Jonghyun tried to hide that the pain hadn’t yet faded. He let silence reign, taking the time to recover. Jonghyun pressed the small button that controlled his pain medication. His nurses had told him to use it liberally—if he didn’t breathe normally, he wouldn’t recover, and he couldn’t breathe normally while in pain—so he didn’t worry about doing so.

Despite everything, Jonghyun couldn’t let the conversation end there though. Since yesterday, he’d run everything through his head over and over, trying to figure out what had changed and how much had changed.

At the end, he’d concluded that everything felt normal. Even with the cognitive dissonance that came when he imagined himself in the shoes he’d worn a week ago, he didn’t feel wrong. It was better. He thought that meant he was recovering.

“Am I very different?” Jonghyun asked.

“Do you feel different?” Aaron countered.

He’d always hated when people threw honest questions back into his face. There was no way Aaron meant it to sound condescending, but it was difficult to not take it like that, especially when he’d spent the last few days receiving question after question from nurses and doctors.

“Never mind.” Part of him wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want to wake up alone again.

Jonghyun wanted to go home.

“You’re not much different,” Dongho said. “We’ve spent most of this conversation talking about why you don’t want to talk to Minhyun.”

“Dongho, that’s enough.” Minki’s voice was sharp.

“What? We’re all thinking it,” he said. “You think the surgery didn’t fix this? Then you do it. But don’t leave it anymore. This has already gone on for way too long.”

He leveled a stare at Jonghyun, and Jonghyun took it as a challenge, not looking away. In his peripherals, Aaron shifted like he was about to jump in.

Jonghyun spoke before he could. “You’re not listening to me,” he said. “I don’t care when I see him”—and he knew that would hurt them, just like he knew it was a bad way to word whatever he felt, but he said it anyway—“You want me to fix this? I’m the one being logical here.”

 “What about not letting Minhyun see you is logical?” Minki asked. His voice shook, and Jonghyun regretted speaking so callously.

It was too late to back down now. “What’s he going to regret more: Not paying attention to his other members only a few days before they disband? Or delaying seeing me? In—what, two weeks?—we’re going to live together again.”

“He’ll still want to see you,” Minki said. “You know that.”

Jonghyun did. “Then whatever. I told you, I don’t care.”

Aaron’s hand tightened on his ankle. Jonghyun waited for him to speak.

“You’re very concerned about his wellbeing for someone who doesn’t care.”

“That’s not—It’s not that I don’t care about _him_. He’s my friend.” Jonghyun wanted them to understand. “I still want the best for him.”

“Then he’s going to spend some time with us.”

"Fine, then. He can come." Jonghyun's head was pounding, white noise playing in his ears like a dull roar. His eyes were growing heavy, and for the first time, Jonghyun remembered how the pain medication put him to sleep. He tried to power through it. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

He’d focused so much on Minhyun the past couple months that he kind-of never wanted to think about him again. Jonghyun just wanted everything to find some semblance of normalcy and stay there.

“You look tired,” Minki said, and it was like a switch had flipped. “You need rest.”

“We can leave, if you want to sleep,” Dongho said. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Please don’t,” Jonghyun said. “Not yet.” He’d talk all day if it would keep them there, medication or not.

Minki reached over and smoothed out his bangs. “We’ll stay,” he said. “But you should rest.”

“You’re all going to watch me sleep?” Jonghyun asked. “That’s creepy.”

“Shut up,” Minki said.  “How do you control your bed?”

Jonghyun did it himself, lowering it down until it was near horizontal. With them all staring at him, a flicker of uncertainty spread through him. “If you need to leave, you can,” he said.

“My mom’ll probably disown me if I don’t stay,” Dongho said. “She asked me three times if I’ve gone and seen you yet.”

Jonghyun smiled. “Well, she’s always liked me best.”

“Said to let you know that nothing helps people recover better than Jeju sun.”

“You’ll have to take me there again,” Jonghyun said. “But maybe no rolling around in a giant ball this time.”

“The food was the best part anyway,” Dongho said. "She'll definitely cook for you, too."

“Bring us this time too,” Minki said. “I’ve never even been there!”

His righteous indignancy made Jonghyun suppress a laugh. “But then I’ll never rest,” he said. “Maybe I want some alone time.”

“Says the one who doesn’t want us to leave,” Minki said. When Jonghyun couldn’t answer, his mind too tired for a retort, Minki let out a satisfied ‘hah’ and said, “checkmate.”

Jonghyun hummed. He didn’t mind losing to Minki. “Tell me what you’ve been doing?” he asked. “Everything. ‘Till I fall asleep.”

Dongho launched into a story about Bumzu’s latest antics, with Minki and Aaron adding occasional comments. Jonghyun smiled through the beginning of it, even as Dongho’s voice grew further and further away.

When he woke up, he didn’t remember the ending.

Jonghyun was alone, but when he turned to the side so he could see the clock, he spotted the stack of cards and had to smile.

 

\--

 

PLEDIS ENTERTAINMENT OFFICIAL STATEMENT

Hello, this is Pledis Entertainment. Recently there has been stipulation about our artist JR and his condition. Earlier this year, JR was diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease. We have since consulted doctors and on December 12th 2018, JR was admitted to the hospital for surgery. This surgery was successful, and JR is now recovering.

We gratefully thank fans for their support and hope fans will continue supporting Nu’est W in the future.

 

\--

 

PLEDIS ENTERTAINMENT RELEASES NEW INFORMATION REGARDING JR’S HANAHAKI DISEASE

By Song Jieun

On December 13th, Pledis Entertainment announced JR was diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease and was in recovery from surgery. Since then, netizens have pressured Pledis Entertainment for more information, leading them to release a new statement with an apology and more information about JR’s condition.

According to Pledis the exact origin of the disease is unknown, but it’s believed the illness was incited during a fan event in 2017. Due to the nature of the event, there was no way to identify the fan, so JR elected to undergo the surgery. He looks forward to returning to fans and promoting again.

In the past, idols under Pledis have stated there is no dating ban.  According to labelmate Hwang Minhyun, Pledis “doesn’t prohibit dating deliberately. On the contrary, they even encourage it, so as to let us express our emotions.” Unfortunately, it seems even with these freedoms, JR was unable to reconnect with his lost love.

We wish JR the best and hope he will recover soon!

 

Comments (84):

 

NuesTTurtle

 The real question is who tf isnt in love with Jonghyun

   Bugibugi

     Ikr??? Seriously someone drop their @ I just want to talk…

       Nue5t_forever

         Jonghyun deserves better im glad he got the surgery 🤬🤬

          Bugibugi

            I hope hes doing okay TT but yeah whoever the girl is…he deserves better than that 😐😥

 

Bugibugi 

 I guess we know who _I H_ _ate You_ is about now…

   Lovable_fox

    I hate u, I need u… u always in my mind, u always in my mind

     Lovable_fox

       Even help me…

         Lovable_fox

           i erase u and think of u. i want to see u and hate u. what do i do

             2hyunist

               poor baby…

 

Sexybanditbaekho

 Is no one going to mention good bye bye lol

  helpMenuest

    rip

 

helpMEnuest

 oh no TT I hope hes doing better TT

  helpMEnuest

   when will they finally get a break TT this is too much…

 

tinycloud

 Guys…stop with the gross shipping comments. He literally couldve died

  tinycloud

   Newflash…dying aint cute

 

onghwang ❤❤

 anyone who thinks hes coming back to nuest after this is delusional

  2hyunfan

   Focus on ur group lol 15 days till disbandment

    onghwang ❤❤

     just say you dont care about minhyun and go. nuest isnt even going to be around anymore

      onghwang ❤❤

       anyone who cares about minhyun would want him to be successful

        jrie_star

         no place for akgae here

          lovable_fox

           pls stop arguing…this isnt the place for it…

      _[show rest of thread]_

 

Jrie_star

 pls stop sharing photos of jrie at the hospital!!!!! Its disrespectful!!!!!!

 

onibugi_go!

 I wish jonghyun oppa loved me like that TT

  Jju-ya

   he doest love her anymore

    Jju-ya

     thats what the surgery does

      onibugi_go!

       @jju-ya I no but it would still b nice

 

Nu’venteen

 ok but are we rlly goin to pretend they couldnt find the girl lmao

  Nu’venteen

   I hope pledis didnt force him to do this

 

Jonghyunnieeeeeee

 im glad he got the surgery…now if he could just love me…

  Jonghyunnieeeeeee

   Hes so wholehearted…loving someone so much he gets Hanahaki…its so romantic

    Jonghyunnieeeeeee

     Love at first sight <3 <3

      Jju-ya

       It was literally killing him but go off I guess lol

 

2hyunist

 “labelmate hwang minhyun” u mean groupmate

  2hyunist

   hes literally a nuest member

 

\--

 

Minhyun started with his books. He had brought more than most of the members but likely fewer than fans would guess. With the exception of a few poetry books he swore by, most had gone untouched for quite a while.

He was busy. It was tough to make time for anything past the bare necessities when he’d grown used to counting sleep in minutes rather than hours.

Part of him recognized that this would end soon, but that was also a lie. His activities with Wanna One would end, but he’d be just as busy with Nu’est.

Those were thoughts for later, though. For now, his big concern was fitting as many books as possible per box, while also avoiding making them too heavy.

“That’s not going to work,” Sungwoon said. He was lounging across his bed, eyes half on his phone, half on Minhyun. “Or well, it could work better.”

Minhyun had always been bad at estimating spatial things, so he didn’t question Sungwoon. “Do you have a better way?” he asked.

Sungwoon rolled off his bed, and even after so long, it was endearing to watch him hop off it. Their beds were tall, but not ridiculous or anything. Minhyun didn’t have to jump.

He peered at the books and box for a minute before flipping a few around. Just the couple motions made them take up considerably less space.

“Got it?” Sungwoon said, and Minhyun nodded.

“Thanks, hyung. If you need any help later, let me know.”

“I might take you up on that. Haven’t even started yet.” He grimaced, gesturing around as though Minhyun otherwise wouldn’t have noticed that nothing moved. “It still feels far away.”

“There’s still some time,” Minhyun agreed. “I’m only starting because I’m going to Nu’est’s dorm in a couple days. I figured I’d bring some with me.”

Sungwoon hummed. He picked up one of Minhyun’s books—a teenager’s book, one that he’d read years ago and always loved.  Minhyun had done his best to get everyone he could to read it, scandalized when only he seemed to love it (or wanted to read it at all.)

“Are you going to see Jonghyun?” Sungwoon asked. Minhyun’s eyes shot up to him, and whatever Sungwoon saw in them made him falter. “I, uh, saw the news…”

Minhyun sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “Jonghyun should be back by then. I need to see him.”

“How is he?”

“Doing well, according to the others,” Minhyun said.

Aaron had called on his way back from the hospital and said Jonghyun was recovering well but wanted to come home as soon as he could. According to him, Jonghyun was different but not overly so, and that was what Minhyun had expected.

It hurt, a little, but it wasn’t bad. Different didn’t have to be bad. Minhyun was still on his path to accepting that, but it was easier now. Jonghyun had changed more quickly than most—and with the aid of a parasite and a surgery—but they’d figure it out. Just like Jonghyun had told him they would.

“I wondered why I never saw you talking to him,” Sungwoon said. “Has he been sick for long?”

It struck Minhyun like a bolt of lightning that Sungwoon didn’t actually know Minhyun’s true involvement with everything. The news had passed around, but it had missed a lot of people too.

For a second, relief flooded him, but it left a hollow valley, all the way through his chest. “Long time,” Minhyun said. “He loved them for years.”

Sungwoon grimaced. “I figured it had to be for a friend, not a fan.”

So Minhyun hadn’t been the only one to find Pledis’ story ridiculous. Fansigns went by in a blur, where he appreciated every person he saw, but he certainly didn’t remember the individuals.

The chance of noticing any individual fan while on stage was tempered by the bright spotlight shining in his face. Minhyun's normal strategy was to smile at the dark shapes in the first few rows, and usually, he made some accidental eye-contact.

“Do you think people will believe it?”

Sungwoon shrugged. “Probably,” he said. “It was a smart way to do it, really. Not announce it until after the surgery, and do it in a way that suggests it’s possible for an idol to fall in love with fans like that, you know?”

He was right—they had been clever—but damn, it stung. Minhyun opted to change the subject.

Sungwoon still had the book in his hand.

“Have you read that?” he asked.

Sungwoon flipped it over to look at the title. “No,” he said. “What’s it about?”

Minhyun was certain he’d asked in part because he knew Minhyun well enough to see it hadn’t been a totally honest question, more a distraction. He appreciated it.

“A princess,” he said. “She’s forced into hiding but reclaims the throne later.”

Sungwoon hummed. “Unrealistic," he said. "Who ever goes from unknown to suddenly successful?” His voice was a little too casual for him to truly pull the joke off. Minhyun snorted.

“That was sloppy,” Minhyun told him, but he laughed anyway.

“Like you could do better,” Sungwoon said. He passed Minhyun’s book back and hopped onto Minhyun’s bed.

“Hey—”

“I’m clean; I’m clean.” Sungwoon dropped back so he laid flat across it, ruffling Minhyun’s sheets.

“You’ve also got your own bed right there.” Minhyun gestured towards it.

“Spoilsport,” Sungwoon said. “We were having a moment.”

“When? You made a bad joke.”

“We were—bonding,” he said. “Over our shared success and how strange life is.”

Minhyun went to respond, but Sungwoon barreled on.

“We should drink to that.”

Minhyun groaned. “Oh please, never again,” he said. “I drank with Seongwoo a few nights ago.”

“Gross. You’re such a sad drunk.”

“Shut up,” Minhyun grumbled.

“But you were, weren’t you?” Sungwoon asked.

Minhyun didn’t answer, which Sungwoon clearly took as an affirmation.

“Do you think this will feel as fake as Produce does?” Sungwoon asked. Even without an explanation, Minhyun got it. Produce was a whirlwind; something that happened so quickly and changed so much that it was surreal. From the breakdowns to the best moments, it was some uncontrollable landslide that Minhyun had somehow held on through.

“I hope not,” he said. “And I don’t think so. We had a little time to breathe here.”

“I don’t want it to,” Sungwoon said. “I’m going to miss this.”

“Me too,” Minhyun admitted, and for the first time, that didn’t feel like a betrayal. “Things have changed since this first started.”

At one time, it was a means to an end. He and Jonghyun and Minki and Dongho wanted to save Nu’est, and so they did their best. Sungwoon and Taehyun wanted to do the same for Hotshot.

Minhyun had stepped into Wanna One with the deadline heavy on his mind, and a promise that things would go back to normal after that period.  Somewhere along the way, his normal had changed.

He put the novel into the box, then gave up on that entirely. Minhyun took a seat on his bed, next to Sungwoon, who groaned as he sat up. They leaned against the headboard together.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Sungwoon said. “You get it.”

“I don’t think I understand anything.”

“Exactly.” Sungwoon pressed his shoulder against Minhyun’s. “This is so weird." 

"I'm worried they'll expect me to fit right back in, just like before."

"They know better than that," Sungwoon said. "D'you really think all of them were the same after Produce as before? Or now versus before?" 

That made sense. Minhyun nodded.

Sungwoon fell silent too, and for a long few minutes, they only stared at the wall.

Finally, Minhyun spoke. “Can I tell you something?” he asked. He waited for Sungwoon to confirm he could before speaking again. “Jonghyun was in love with me. For years, and I never noticed. Now he got the surgery, and I don’t know what it’ll be like anymore.”

Sungwoon didn’t answer for another minute, but Minhyun couldn’t bear to say more.

“That—doesn’t surprise me,” Sungwoon said. “Remember that party? After Produce? Jonghyun got drunk and kept telling everyone that they did really well?”

Yeah, he remembered that. Minhyun had appointed himself as Jonghyun’s caretaker when it became clear he wasn’t pacing himself too well. He’d only stepped in a couple times—once before a baffled Samuel, as Jonghyun promised him that he’d go far and do well and achieve everything he wanted.

Most everyone had laughed about it, said Jonghyun was too much of a leader, even when he wasn’t one. Minhyun had tried to laugh along, but he hadn’t found that very funny, not when Minhyun had just entered a long hiatus where Jonghyun wouldn't be his leader any longer.

“The way he looked at you then,” Sungwoon said. “It was like you hung the damn stars. He wouldn’t let go of you. Even Hyunbin noticed.”

“That's just how he was sometimes,” Minhyun said, but it was a stupid defense even to his ears.

Sungwoon smiled. “That’s probably why you never noticed how he felt,” he said. “It was too normal for you.”

“Not anymore,” Minhyun said. “Now he’ll be different. And--I miss it already. But I'm also kind-of glad?"

Sungwoon cocked an eyebrow, a silent question that Minhyun blundered to answer.

"He was in love with me for years but never told me. Not even when he got sick, until he nearly died. And even then he didn't tell me." 

Minhyun didn't know what he was trying to say or if he was succeeding. There was something intensely, intensely wrong to him about what Jonghyun had done.

"He could've died," Minhyun said, his voice soft. "For me. I never would've wanted that."

Part of Minhyun wondered how much Jonghyun had even thought about that, and how much of it had just come after he'd set his heart in one direction and refused to ever stop.

"It's okay," Sungwoon said. "He didn't. He's okay." 

"How do you know?"

Sungwoon paused. "I guess I don't," he said. "But he's alive. The surgery was successful. That means something, right?"

Minhyun sighed. "You're right. Sorry for snapping."

Sungwoon waved him off.

"Don't forget you two were friends first," he said. "For even longer than Jonghyun loved you."

Minhyun knew Jonghyun too well to pretend their friendship didn't matter to him every bit as much as it mattered to Minhyun. Call him naive, but he didn't think even the surgery could change that.

"I could've loved him back. If he had told me earlier, I think I would've." Minhyun swallowed hard. "Even now."

"Don't tell me you have feelings for him now. This isn't a drama, Minhyun."

"I'm not an idiot," Minhyun said. "It's just been on my mind. I'm not going to tell him or anything."

Sungwoon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that'll help your communication issues," he said. "You should wait until things calm down, but if the feelings last, don't hide them forever either. That would only make things worse again."

"You don't think I'm crazy?" Minhyun asked.

"Oh no, you're both insane," Sungwoon said, immediately, and Minhyun had to laugh. "But that's probably how you've both made it this far."

"How do you always know what to say?" Minhyun asked, not sure if he was complaining or appreciating Sungwoon. “When I tried to tell Seongwoo we're all different now, I don't think either of us knew what I meant."

“Unsurprising." Sungwoon paused. "You know, I told Seongwoo to talk to you. Well, me and Jaehwan. Didn’t expect him to get you drunk though.”

“You were worried?” Minhyun asked.

“You weren’t talking to us. Weren’t sleeping, either. Guess that makes sense now. I'm glad Seongwoo could help.”

Minhyun’s heart went a bit fuzzy knowing Sungwoon had noticed and taken action in his own way. Jaehwan, too.

“I’m going to miss you,” Minhyun said. “I’ll miss everyone but...”

“Yeah,” Sungwoon agreed. “Good news is I’ve got nothing against gate-crashing.”

“You’ll always be welcome,” Minhyun said. “Whenever you want.”

“You too,” Sungwoon said. “If Dongho gets under your skin, you can spend a night with me and the others.”

Minhyun smiled. “And let Baekho think he won?” he said. “Never.”

Sungwoon laughed. “See?” he said. “You’ll figure everything out.”

With Dongho, yeah. He would. Jonghyun was the one he wasn’t sure about. But a big part of Minhyun thought he’d figure everything out there, too. He and Jonghyun had been through too much for them to not.

“Thanks, hyung,” Minhyun said, and he meant it more than he could articulate. Maybe tomorrow, when he was less tired.

Sungwoon stretched out. “No problem,” he said. “Besides, this made me feel better too.”

Minhyun raised his eyebrows, knowing from Sungwoon’s conniving grin that some joke was coming.

“If nothing else, my situation’s less fucked than yours.”

“Now that I’d maybe drink to.”

“No thanks. We don’t need alcohol making you any sadder.”

Minhyun had to laugh at that. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“If I’ve learned anything by now,” Sungwoon said. “It’s that that’s in the job description.”

That was fair. They were all a little crazy, chasing fame and friendship and everything else, all wrapped in a package that seemed to run through people’s fingers like water. 

But somehow, even with that, Minhyun couldn’t find it in himself to wish for anything different, and deep down, he didn't think Jonghyun would either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!! ^^ as always, kudos and comments make my day


	14. Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Minhyun.” His voice was impossibly fond, and Minhyun’s heart jerked. Jonghyun wrapped him into a simple hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“Christ, Minhyun, would you stop moving?” Dongho said. He was lounging on his bed, looking at his phone even as Minhyun paced across his room. “We’re not expecting the president—it’s Jonghyun.”

He was right, and Minhyun knew it, but he had to do something. It felt wrong that Aaron and Jonghyun would return to nothing special.

“We did something when you got back,” Minhyun said. Years ago, when Dongho had come home after his vocal surgery, they’d prepared a small party.

“And that went so great.” Admittedly, a party hadn’t been the best choice, considering Dongho hadn’t been allowed to speak more than absolutely necessary, but hey, it was the thought that counted. Minhyun had had a good time. “Besides, I wanted something like that. Jonghyun doesn’t.”

“We can’t do nothing for him,” Minhyun said. “What are we even going to do tonight?”

Dongho shrugged. He rolled over onto his stomach and set his phone down. “Talk, most likely. Do our best to keep him from catching up on anime instead. If you’re going to be like this, go pace around Jonghyun’s room. Or yours.”

Minhyun’s room was a mashup of his and Minki’s stuff currently. They hadn’t planned on giving Minhyun his room back so soon, but with him staying the night and an unspoken but mutual agreement that Minhyun taking the extra bed in Jonghyun’s room was a bad choice, their plans had changed.

Minhyun didn’t really want to think about that, and Jonghyun’s door had been closed anyway. He hadn’t opened it, too many memories of him doing his best to break in whenever Minki and Jonghyun locked it clouding his sight.

“Maybe I want to spend time with you.”

“That’d be nice,” Dongho said, and Minhyun stopped midway across the floor. “But you need to calm down first.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You say ‘hi’ when Jonghyun gets here, pretend you aren’t useless while Aaron cooks, and then tell us all the dumb stuff you’ve been up to.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“That’s because it is."

The front door creaked, and Minhyun shot up, and his back protested the move. Dammit. He’d jarred it earlier carrying a heavier box to the dorm, but he’d thought it had already recovered.

“You okay? Do you need ice?”

Minhyun took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he muttered, already halfway out the door. Dongho followed.

Jonghyun's face had regained some color, though the red smears across his cheeks and on the tip of his nose had to also come from the cold. Still, the last time Minhyun had seen him, he could've been a ghost.

Minki had rushed Jonghyun right as he got through the doorway. Jonghyun still had his coat and shoes on, but Minhyun couldn’t find anything but content in his expression. His cheek rested on Minki’s shoulder.

Aaron twirled his keys around his finger, too far back to shut the door behind him. Minhyun had already been here before Aaron left, but the sight of him, even just as he fidgeted, summoned a smile.

“Do we really need to do this in the doorway?” Aaron asked. He was lucky he hadn’t tripped over the precarious pile of shoes beside him—a pile that wouldn’t be there tomorrow if Minhyun had anything to do about it.

(It was actually only six or so pairs, not big at all. In fact, the whole dorm was near spotless. Minhyun was certain they didn’t keep it like this normally, and even more certain they hadn’t cleaned it for him. Aaron had promised they’d leave the biggest mess for Minhyun as a home warming present.)

“Jealous, hyung?” Jonghyun asked. He couldn’t quite turn his head far enough to see Aaron while still hugging Minki. “I already hugged you.”

“Bet he just wants Minki to hug him like that,” Dongho said. He pushed past Minhyun to get a more reasonable distance away. Minhyun followed. Aaron was right, he guessed. They could act like they lived here.

“Be nice to me,” Aaron said. “I’m making dinner tonight.”

“Are you bribing me?” Minki asked. He let Jonghyun go, but Jonghyun hung on for an extra second, his cheek still smushed on Minki’s shoulder. “That’s a little desperate, even for you.”

“You say that, but you’re the one who’s been sleeping in my bed this week.”

Jonghyun slipped off his shoes and added them to the pile, ignoring the perfectly good rack that held Minhyun’s shoes. He shed his coat with care, like he was sore. It wasn’t a reach to guess he likely was.

Jonghyun hung his coat, then turned and caught Minhyun staring. He faltered, but a wide smile grew across his face. The happy lines appeared at the corners of his eyes.

“Hey,” Minhyun said, a little breathless. Jonghyun came closer. Minki continued to argue with Aaron, but it was all too easy to ignore it.

“Minhyun.” His voice was impossibly fond, and Minhyun’s heart jerked. Jonghyun wrapped him into a simple hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“I missed you.” Minhyun didn’t dare hold Jonghyun too tightly, and Jonghyun didn’t stay too long. He patted Minhyun’s back—once, twice, three times—then pulled back.

It was a normal amount of affection from him. Two years ago, Minhyun would’ve taken that and clung on for more if he was so inclined, maybe all the way until Jonghyun pinched him hard. Two years ago, Jonghyun would've given him shit for coming to the doorway to meet him.

He wouldn't have said it was good to see Minhyun, and Minhyun wouldn't have said he missed Jonghyun, and neither of them would've said hello, instead starting off some conversation as though they'd been together all morning.

It took a lot more words to talk to Jonghyun these days. Maybe that was why Minhyun spent so long searching for them.

“You look like shit,” Jonghyun said. He gripped Minhyun’s shoulder to look at him better. “Didn't you sleep?”

“I was packing. I brought some stuff back with me.” Minhyun had finished what he planned to do last night, then woken at four and tried to plan out every way this conversation could possibly go. He still wasn’t prepared, standing in front of Jonghyun like a student who’d studied all night only to forget a pencil.

“It took you all night?”

Minhyun didn’t answer. What exactly did Jonghyun want him to say? Jonghyun wasn’t dumb; he was fishing for answers he had to know.

Jonghyun waited for something, but Minhyun wasn’t certain whether it was because he’d skipped his turn in the conversation or some other reason. He pretended not to notice, directing his attention to Aaron and Minki’s bickering.

“I’ll spit in your food,” Aaron was saying.

“I’ll switch it with yours.”

“Gross.” As though Aaron knew Minhyun was using him to fill an awkward pause, he set off towards the kitchen.

“It’s your spit!” Minki called after him. He huffed and followed him, banging his shoulder into Minhyun’s on his way past, despite them not being in close quarters.

So much for that distraction.

Jonghyun had moved on to drape as much weight as he could onto Dongho, who had no trouble bearing it, even when Jonghyun tightened his grip around his neck.

Jonghyun and Dongho pulled back but kept talking. Minhyun crouched down to straighten the shoe pile, figuring he’d at least put them all on the rack. He'd never seen any of the pairs before, but it was easy enough to guess which belonged to whom.

The last ones were particularly ugly, and Minhyun would've betted they were Dongho's if not that they were more Aaron’s size.

“Minhyun?” Jonghyun was closer now. “We need to talk, yeah?”

Minhyun stood, only to wince and freeze when his back spasmed.

Jonghyun’s eyebrows furrowed. “Your back?”

“I’m good.” Minhyun sighed in relief when the twinge faded. “We can talk, if you’re not too tired.” Minhyun had almost expected them to leave the serious conversation for later, considering Jonghyun had started out today in the hospital.

Jonghyun waited a second too long to respond, as his eyes scanned Minhyun up and down.

“My room?” he asked, finally. Minhyun nodded, but it was perfunctory. They were already walking in that direction. Jonghyun took a seat on the chair in front of his PC, and for a second, it was an uncanny echo to when Minhyun had confronted him.

Except this time, Jonghyun wasn’t sick and wasn’t in love with him. He was also staring at Minhyun, not blissfully unaware of his presence. Jonghyun had a bruise on the inside of his elbow, a blue smear left behind from the IV.

“Well?” he asked, but he looked markedly more unsure now that Minhyun was hesitating in his doorway. “Unless—unless you don’t want to?”

Minhyun took a seat on the edge of Jonghyun’s bed. “Of course I want to.”

“If you need more time, it’s fine,” Jonghyun said. “I told them I thought this was rushing things.”

“Rushing things?”

“Yeah, I—It doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is I get we all want to move past this, but it's okay if you need time.”

“I don’t,” Minhyun said. “Do you?”

Jonghyun shook his head. “You were angry. I get—I get hiding it when I was sick, but you don't have to now.”

That was true, but the last thing Minhyun wanted was to wait even longer. Their wounds had already festered for too long.

Jonghyun now, with his small smile and none of the desperation, was a dream. One of those strange ones, the ones that never truly feel real. You go about your normal business and jump at every strange movement because you’re certain something is about to go wrong. Minhyun clenched his hands into fists, then loosened them. His palms were sweaty. His stomach rolled like he’d just gotten off a Viking ship ride.

“I’m just glad you’re better,” Minhyun said. With everything they’d gone through, the idea of even attempting to maintain his anger was exhausting. Maybe once this was over, he could finally get a good night's sleep again.

The silence stretched on, and for the first time, Jonghyun couldn’t meet Minhyun’s eyes.

“I’m not sure what to say,” he said, finally. “I’m sorry?”

Minhyun wasn’t certain what he wanted from Jonghyun, but it wasn’t an apology. He’d received too many of those over the years.

“What do you want to say?”

Jonghyun’s lips quirked into an odd smile. “Let’s move on? I’m glad all this is finally over? I don’t know. That’s a good question.”

“Is it over then?” Minhyun asked. “How do you feel?”

“In general? A lot better than last week. About you—that’s more complicated. But, you’re my friend. I know that.”

What did that even mean? An unexpected flash of irritation darted through him, and okay, maybe he wasn't as over his anger as he'd insisted. But this was warranted: It was one thing for Minhyun to have to say he'd missed Jonghyun and for them to trade ‘hello's. What did it mean that Jonghyun had to assert that they were friends?

That had never been a question. Sure, it took them forever to say anything now, but this wasn’t a question, right?

The irritation chilled into fear and slid down his back like a stream of ice water. Minhyun had to swallow a few times before he could speak.

“Don’t lie,” Minhyun said, somewhat numbly. “If you don’t feel anything, then don’t pretend.”

He’d rather Jonghyun admit they were little better than strangers with too many pointless memories than let Minhyun cling onto a friendship he’d already lost.

Minhyun didn’t know what he’d do if Jonghyun lied to him again.

“What?” Jonghyun echoed. His eyes widened, and he shook his head hard enough that his hair flopped all over the place. “No, Minhyun, I still care about you. I’m just not in love with you anymore.” He said it like that was an easy line to draw and maybe it was, but Minhyun would need a surveyor to determine it.

Minhyun had expected relief. For a while, he’d questioned if Jonghyun even wanted him back, and now Jonghyun was basically saying they could go back to normal. He should be thrilled, and maybe he was, but Minhyun had to search for it.

“You were right. I’m sorry I couldn’t see that before." Jonghyun smiled, and Minhyun had never been less happy about being right. "I should’ve moved on a long time ago.” He looked at his hands. Jonghyun still wore the hospital bracelet, purple plastic wrapped loosely around his wrist. He gave it a tug, but they’d need scissors to get it off.

“Promise me something?” Minhyun asked. Despite everything, he'd be lying if he said it wasn’t the slightest bit flattering that Jonghyun had loved him. There were few people whose opinions mattered more to him than Jonghyun’s, but there were too many negatives for Minhyun to do anything but push those feelings down. This was the right thing to do.

Six years was a whole quarter of their lives.

Jonghyun raised his eyebrows and waited.

“Never do that again." His voice came out rushed. Minhyun would've never forgiven himself, no matter who the blame belonged to, if Jonghyun didn’t get better. “I don’t know if it can come back—”

“It can’t. I’d fight it off."

“Like a virus,” Minhyun said, no doubt the worst choice of everything he could've chosen.

“I’ve got all those antibodies or whatever now." Jonghyun smiled, but it didn’t quite work. Something hard pressed against Minhyun's chest. "But I won’t do it again, Hanahaki or not. Promise.”

“What’s wrong?”

Minhyun waited for Jonghyun to brush it off, like always, because even before any of this, Jonghyun had liked to pretend he was fine and ignore how everyone could tell he wasn't. Now Minhyun had hardly any right to demand an explanation.

“It’s nothing. I’m just still processing.” Jonghyun made a vague, circular motion near his head. “It’s hard to explain.”

Minhyun resigned himself to accept that as the final answer. It was more than he had expected, anyway. Jonghyun took one look at him and sighed, wetting his lips before he continued to speak.

“You know those memories that pop in your head late at night—like, you’re trying to sleep and it’s like ‘hey remember this bad, embarrassing thing you did like five years ago? Why’d you do that?’”

The non sequitur threw Minhyun off, if he’d ever been ‘on’ in the first place. “I guess?”

“Something tells me this is gonna be one of those.” Jonghyun almost smiled by the end, and something hard and near painful dislodged in Minhyun’s chest. There was a breathy laugh that had to come from him, even if it didn't sound like it, and Minhyun wasn't certain if he was lighter or heavier.

“It still might be marginally better than that time we hid Aaron hyung's phone and waited ‘till we got off the plane to give it back,” Jonghyun said.

“That was a long time ago.” They’d been seventeen and somehow all thought it was a hell of a joke, but Aaron had thought he’d lost his one way to communicate with his family right before they went to China for an undetermined amount of time. Minhyun hadn’t thought about it in forever.

"And yet there it is, late at night." Jonghyun shook his head like it was tragic. Minhyun tried a smile on for size and tried to ignore the part of him poised for something to happen. For something to go wrong.

Two years ago, it would have never felt wrong to share a joke, even a weak one, with Jonghyun.

“Is this too soon?” Jonghyun asked, before Minhyun had figured out a response. "I shouldn't be joking about it. I'm sorry.”

“No, it's—" What? It was what? "It's better," he said. He accentuated it with a small nod. "It's better." Jonghyun regretted what had happened, and Minhyun couldn't misunderstand him and think he meant the love. Jonghyun thought he'd handled it poorly, and he had, and somehow, hearing him say it like this was better than any apology he could give.

“If it makes you feel better, when you’re thinking about hiding it, I’ll be thinking about how I never noticed,” Minhyun said. Maybe he was wasting time searching for fairytales when he tried to imagine how he would’ve reacted to Jonghyun’s confession, but it remained in his mind, popping up late at night just like Jonghyun’s bad memories.

This wasn’t the time to tell Jonghyun about it, but maybe one day, he would. One day, Jonghyun would be better and this would all be in the past, and maybe then Minhyun would bring it up.

For now, they had enough to focus on, as Minhyun moved back and Jonghyun recovered, as they figured out the intricacies of being in a five-person band that topped charts and had made way too many friends along the way.

“It’s no big deal,” Jonghyun said. “I hid it well.”

“You’ve always been too good at that”—From the charismatic leader to Jonghyun to the aegyo-filled maknae MC and Jonghyun again—“but I thought I knew you better.”

“You knew me just as well as I did.” He paused again, and Minhyun waited as he rolled some thought through his mind, as though it was a wine he wanted to determine the flavor of. “Still do, I think. You know, I was worried about this. But it’s not bad, yeah?” He gestured between them.

“It’s good,” Minhyun said. “I think we might finally be good.” They weren't, not yet. Talking to Jonghyun still hurt, but it was infinitely better than not talking to him, and that was enough for now.

“It’ll be a bit before I can agree with that,” Jonghyun said. “Not because of you—just, you know. It’s a lot.”

Minhyun couldn’t condemn him for that. “We’ve got time,” he said. “Take as much as you need.”

“I’m meeting a therapist. Did I say that before? She thinks she can help.”

Another hard piece broke in him, and Minhyun took a deeper breath than he would’ve previously thought possible. This was good. Surprising, but good. There was something very, very wrong about Jonghyun ever hiding a serious illness, especially in the name of making things better for others.

Minhyun wouldn’t have known how to even touch the issue, but a therapist would. There were ways he and the others could help and ways they couldn’t. It would be good for Jonghyun to have someone there for him who didn't have those constrictions.

“How’s it been going?” Minhyun asked. Then hurried to add, “If you don’t mind.”

Jonghyun waved his concerns off. “Well, I did my best to explain why I did everything, and she wasn’t very impressed by any of it.”

Minhyun frowned. “Was she rude?”

“Just honest. And straightforward.” Jonghyun smiled. “It was kinda nice. Like talking to hyung but without the ‘I don’t know, man' at the end. Maybe it really will help.”

“I’m glad,” Minhyun said, not sure what else would fit.

“What about you?” Jonghyun asked.

“Me?”

“You’re coming back here soon.” Jonghyun searched Minhyun’s face for something, and he wasn’t certain whether Jonghyun found it or even what he was looking for. “And you know I still remember everything we talked about. What you told me.”

They hadn’t talked about his return, Not just him and Jonghyun, but him and any of them. No one had ever bothered to ask him if he was coming back because it had never been a question, but they recognized that it was bittersweet. So far, they’d let him handle it alone.

Or, more likely, were waiting for him to bring it up.

And as for the other thing Jonghyun referenced, they’d get there. One day. Not yet.

“I don’t think that’s something I need a therapist for,” Minhyun said. Jonghyun didn’t bother to pretend that was a decent joke.

Minhyun’s heart raced when Jonghyun looked straight through him. Maybe it was because he’d done all he could to keep his issues to himself, especially from Jonghyun.

Or maybe not. Minhyun had always liked being seen. Especially by Jonghyun.

That didn’t mean he was ready to bear his soul about it. He didn’t have the choice to avoid it for much longer, but for now, when Jonghyun gave him an out, he took it.

“Hyung’s probably done cooking,” Jonghyun said. “I can smell it.”

“Maybe they don’t want to interrupt.”

“Or they’re eating it all on their own.”

“In that case, we should probably go out.”

Jonghyun smiled but didn’t bother to answer, already on his feet.

The conversation wasn't over, but the respite was nice. Two years ago, it was Jonghyun who would open up for short periods and close right up again, like a book snapped shut. This time Minhyun was rubbed raw, but he knew Jonghyun too well to think he was unscathed.

"Hey, wait," Minhyun said. Jonghyun stopped and waited as Minhyun went to his desk. He didn't comment when Minhyun opened first one drawer, then a second. He couldn't remember where Jonghyun kept scissors.

He found a pair in the third drawer. Minhyun offered them to Jonghyun, but he only held his wrist out. Minhyun snipped the hospital bracelet off.

"Take your coat off. Stay a while," he said.

"Sap," Jonghyun said, but he was smiling. He took the bracelet from Minhyun and tossed it in the trash on his way to the door. “C’mon. Your turn.”

“Huh?” Minhyun asked. Jonghyun didn’t answer, but his smile still tugged at his lips. Minhyun followed him.

Everyone else was in the living room. Their voices were all somewhat quiet now, but they'd likely end up all yelling at each other within a few minutes. Jonghyun led him past that and into the kitchen. He opened the freezer and reached inside, and Minhyun hung back, unsure what Jonghyun was doing.

"Here, catch." Jonghyun tossed something at him. Minhyun fumbled with it, unprepared for the cold. An ice pack. "For your back. Don’t leave it on for too long.”

It had been years since Minhyun had once left an icepack on for too long and discovered that frozen skin hurt a lot like burned skin. They’d mocked him ever since with warnings that ‘by the way, ice is cold.’ Two years ago, he would’ve snapped back.

“Thank you,” he said, and maybe they really would be alright.

 

\--

 

“Minhyun hyung!” Daehwi motioned him over towards where he and Jinyoung stood around a small table.

“Are you having fun?” Minhyun asked. He sat his juice on the table. Swing had combined an end-of-year party and a goodbye party all into one, and it seemed they’d brought double the alcohol for it. At least he'd found an alternative he liked.

There were a ton of people spread throughout the party, and every time Minhyun turned around, a new person congratulated him. It was nice, but it left his head spinning. He was glad to find a couple members in the mix. They’d scattered early on.

“When we get back to the apartment would you help us move our couch out?” Jinyoung asked, blowing off Minhyun’s question.

“What? Why?”

“We figured out a way to celebrate,” Daehwi said.

“Excuse me?” Minhyun didn’t like where this was going at all. “Riding furniture down stairs never ends well,” he said, just in case.

Jinyoung and Daehwi both laughed.

“Personal experience?” Jinyoung asked.

“I’m hurt that that’s the first thing you thought of,” Daehwi said. “We’re not dumb.”

“Did you just call hyung dumb?” They turned to face him, both with shit-eating smiles that Minhyun didn’t appreciate. He shook his head, pressing his lips together and holding his secrets close.

(It was personal experience. Evil older sisters were sometimes really great at getting you to do stupid things.)

“We were gonna do fireworks first, but then I remembered back in L.A”—And Minhyun tried not to feel nervous just because of that, but he’d heard too many stories of strange things that happen there—"there was this thing university students would do. To celebrate, right?”

This was only going downhill. “What was it?”

“Well, a lot of them had couches on their porches, and they’d set them on fire—”

“They’d what?” Minhyun asked. “No way. We’re not lighting anything on fire.”

Daehwi burst out laughing, and Jinyoung joined him. “Your face,” Daehwi said, barely getting the words out through his giggling.

Minhyun sighed in relief—though in retrospect, Daehwi and Jinyoung weren’t idiots, and really, Minhyun should’ve expected something like this as soon as they started.

Jinyoung snorted in that endearing, my-hyungs-are-idiots way that always made Minhyun smile more than it should. “You’re so easy, hyung." Minhyun didn’t even mind being had if it meant no one was lighting things on fire.

“Maybe you’ll learn one day,” Daehwi said.

Jinyoung shook his head. “Old dog, new tricks.”

Minhyun laughed. “So twenty-four is old now? Really?”

“That depends,” Jinyoung said. “How often do you plan on taking us out to eat?”

“Then you can be the cool hyung. Even if you are old.”

“I’m already the cool hyung.”

“I mean…” Daehwi trailed off and shrugged. Minhyun laughed.

“Whenever I can,” he promised. “As long as you two aren’t too busy.” Daehwi had made his future plans clear enough, but Jinyoung had said little. Minhyun hoped his company had been clear with him about his future.

“Are you two really doing this again?” someone asked, and Minhyun recognized Seongwoo before he even finished turning his head. Seongwoo glared past Minhyun, but the corners of his lips were turned up. “They told me the same thing, acting like they’ll starve if we don’t take them out every other night.”

“Do you not want to hang out with us?” Daehwi pouted, and Minhyun leaned forward to pinch his cheek. He pulled back, mouth dropped open as though betrayed. Minhyun grinned.

“Don’t stretch that far; you’ll pull something,” Seongwoo said dryly. “Are you ready to skip? We’re gathering everyone.”

“Isn’t it early?” Minhyun asked.

“It’s been a few hours. Besides, who cares?”

Fair enough. Jinyoung and Daehwi had already stood, and Minhyun followed the three towards the exit. They walked as quickly as they could while still being respectful to all the people whose eyes they caught.

“I think you’re the last—well, depends on if Jisung hyung found Daniel,” Seongwoo said.

“Are we going home?” Daehwi asked.

“Maybe. Might go out somewhere else.”

“I’m not tired at all,” Jinyoung said. “We should.”

“Karaoke room?” Daehwi’s eyes lit up. “That would be so much fun.”

Seongwoo led them into a small side room, and Minhyun smiled as he took in the familiar sight of his members draped over different pieces of furniture. Their manager was also there—likely because for as much as they liked to pretend they could ditch the party when they wanted, it was better to at least double check. None of them wanted to offend the staff they’d worked with.

“Oh good, you found them,” Jisung said. “Everyone ready to go?”

There were a few grunted agreements as everyone stood. Minhyun fondly surveyed his chattering members.

“Let’s go to a Karaoke room,” Daehwi said. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I vote yes!” Jaehwan raised his hand.

"It would be fun,” Sungwoon said, and then everyone was agreeing—even Guanlin, who looked tired and was certainly quieter than usual. Maybe Minhyun would sit by him once they got there, so he could rest on his shoulder if he wanted. It would be impossible to sleep in a room that loud, but at least he could close his eyes that way.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jihoon asked. “Let’s go.”

“Do you mind, hyung?” Jisung asked their manager. He’d likely be the one fielding questions if anyone asked why they’d left early.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Just don’t overwork your voices too much.” It might be the end of the year, but they weren’t quite finished yet. Jisung thanked him and pulled out his phone, likely to get a couple taxis for them.

Jihoon coughed, and it sounded suspiciously like Jaehwan’s name.

“Hey—”

“I’ll make sure no one does,” Minhyun said, before Jaehwan could get started.

“And I’ll make sure Minhyun doesn’t,” Jisung said. “What? You’re one of the worst; don’t deny it.” And okay, that was true. Minhyun still dropped his mouth open as though offended. Jaehwan poked his cheek, and he snapped his jaw shut.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stick to rapping.” There were a couple groans, which Minhyun liked to think were playful.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” Woojin said.

“I’m not that bad,” Minhyun said. “You should encourage me, so I can get better.”

“Hyung, you’re the one who always calls these things ‘concerts,’” Daehwi said. “We’re just trying to keep the quality of our performance—”

Minhyun laughed, loudly enough that it cut Daehwi off. “Be careful,” he said. “You just asked me how often I’ll buy you food.”

“You’ll still take me.”

“Why would I?” Minhyun asked, even though Daehwi was right and likely everyone knew it.

“You’re Minhyun hyung,” Daehwi said. “Besides, Minki hyung and Dongho hyung have offered before, and I’m sure Jonghyun hyung would too so you don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll let them pay for it, then,” Minhyun said.

“That’ll be nice,” Jaehwan said.

“Who said you’re invited?”

“Jonghyun hyung did.”

Minhyun raised his eyebrows. “I think you’re making that up.” Even though he had no doubt Jonghyun had invited him at some point.

“It was right before we moved out of the ‘Sorry Sorry’ dorms!” And right, now Minhyun remembered. Jonghyun had said told that to everyone on their team.

“I second that,” Seongwoo said. “I remember it.”

"Fine. Stop by our dorm sometime too," Minhyun said. "Jonghyun would probably appreciate it, anyway.”

Jonghyun would fill his free time with anime and games, and he'd never tire of those, but for as much as everyone liked to laugh at their resident homebody, Jonghyun spent most of his days doing other things—practicing, filming, traveling.

He’d miss those. Friends would make it a little better.

“How’s he doing?” Jaehwan asked. He was speaking more quietly. Minhyun wouldn’t have said that if he’d known it would’ve turned everything so somber. “I heard—well, everyone heard about it.”

“Better than he’s been in a long time,” Minhyun said. “Finally.” Jonghyun’s physical therapist thought he’d be able to ease back into dancing come February.

“Was it really…?” Daehwi trailed off, uncharacteristically timid.

“Yeah.” It didn’t hurt as much anymore. He and Jonghyun had talked a couple more times since, though not much about anything serious. “But he’s okay now.” His voice was firm and confident and enough to end the conversation.

Minhyun was glad. For as much as he loved Jonghyun, he wasn’t what Minhyun wanted to talk about now. Not on a night they were celebrating.

“You’re better too,” Daehwi said.

"I am?" Minhyun wanted to ask what he meant, but well, he knew. It was just a surprise that Daehwi did too.

"I can tell," Daehwi said firmly.

“Good,” Jinyoung said, and that was that, at least for him. He turned to Daehwi and started a new conversation.

Minhyun watched them for another second. Had he been that obvious? Or were they just more perceptive than he'd imagined?

Jaehwan pinched his side and snapped Minhyun out of his thoughts.

“What was that for?” Minhyun protested.

“I can’t believe those demons got you to agree to take them out too,” Jaehwan said. “They did the same to me.”

Minhyun raised his eyebrows. “You realize you did too, right?”

“I’m different,” Jaehwan said. “I’m like, one of your best friends.”

Minhyun laughed. “Does that mean you’ll take me out too?”

“By best friend, I meant I’m your favorite dongsaeng. Sorry, hyung. I can’t pay.”

“Of course,” Minhyun grumbled. “I don’t know why I expected more from you.”

Now Jaehwan laughed, and he patted Minhyun’s back. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll let you sing first tonight.”

 

\--

 

Jonghyun leaned back against the washing machine, avoiding a suspiciously wet-looking soap stain. He should clean that up, but for now, he clenched his fingers against the machine and breathed.

It rumbled under him.

The scent of Clorox wipes stuck in his nose, but he didn’t mind. It was better than what he'd smelled earlier.

In retrospect, Jonghyun was impressed the others had scrubbed the sweet, cloying scent from the dorm as well as they had. They hadn’t been able to air it out for months, the scent diffusing everywhere, but Jonghyun had returned to a dorm that masqueraded as though brand new.

He should’ve known there would still be traces. He should’ve expected them, not gotten a single whiff from an extra blanket in his closet and did—what? Panicked? Blanked out?

The next thing Jonghyun knew was that he’d ended up in the bathroom with the door locked, hunched over the toilet in an odd parody of the past year as he waited for flowers that would never come again.

It was after three in the morning, or at least, it had been when he’d started doing laundry. Jonghyun had only planned to do the single blanket, but with the extra nervous energy propelling him, he’d tidied his room and tossed his other sheets into a new load.

His eyes fell shut, and there he stood until he shifted his hand and set it straight into the spilled detergent. He wrinkled his nose, looking at the blue smear across his palm. God, he was tired. Jonghyun walked to the bathroom, his steps slow and measured.

The detergent became soap suds under the cold water.

“Jonghyun?” Minki’s voice came paired with a hesitant knock on the door. “Are you alright?”

Jonghyun jolted and cleared his throat. “I’m fine,” he called. “Go back to bed.”

He’d never closed the door, and it creaked as Minki pushed it open enough to look inside. Jonghyun realized too late that he shouldn't have sounded like he was trying to make Minki leave.

“What are you doing?” Minki asked. Jonghyun made eye contact with him through the mirror. His hair was a mess, and he didn’t have his eye mask on his forehead. He must’ve given up on sleeping a while ago.

“Laundry,” Jonghyun said. He turned off the water.

“Your room looks like a tornado went through it. You’re not supposed to lift anything.” That was an exaggeration. The most strenuous thing he'd done was strip the sheets off his bed.

Jonghyun led the way back to the laundry room, leaning back against the washer. His basket already held the problematic blanket—a big gray knitted one his mother had given him years ago.

“I didn’t really plan on this,” he admitted. “My room smelled.” Jonghyun didn’t know how else to say it.

Minki smiled sadly. “We tried to get it out.”

Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut to try and get rid of his grogginess. It didn’t work.

“Why are you awake?” he asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Minki said it casually, and Jonghyun translated that to mean he’d likely had a nightmare. It wasn't too surprising; Minki got them whenever there was change.

“Want to talk about it?” That was likely why Minki had sought him out. If Jonghyun had been asleep, Minki would’ve just slipped into bed with him.

“Nah, I just wanted to check on you. I knew I should’ve slept in there.” The other bed was still made with spare sheets, and none of them had bothered to switch them with Minki’s comforter yet. They would have to in a couple days.

Jonghyun smiled. “I’m good. Promise.” This was a bit of a hiccup, but well, part of him had expected it. Jonghyun was certain he’d never, ever forget that smell.

“Are you going back to bed?” Maybe Minki wasn’t as over the nightmare as he’d said. There was something uncertain in his tone, like he wanted to talk.

“I need my sheets.” There was an extra set in his closet.

Minki came over and hopped onto the dryer. Jonghyun debated whether to join him or not on the washer, but Minki spoke before he could.

“I never told you I was sorry,” he said. Jonghyun waited, running through his head what Minki could possibly be apologizing for. “For telling everyone you were sick.”

Oh. That had happened a lifetime ago.

“You don’t have to. I should be the one apologizing—I shouldn’t have been angry.”

“I lied to you,” Minki insisted. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. You had to go to the hospital.”

It was sweet that he cared enough to say this even now. Touching. Jonghyun looked back on his past actions with a wince and an ‘oh god, I really did that.’ Minki was a lot kinder about it, and Jonghyun should probably take a page from his book.

“I had pneumonia,” Jonghyun reminded him. “If I hadn’t gone then, I would’ve later.”

Fainting spells didn’t occur too often, but when their schedules were constant and crazy, shit happened. It wasn’t normal procedure to go to the hospital over it. If Minki had kept his secret, it was possible they’d have let him sleep it off, and he wouldn’t have gone to the hospital until he was even worse.

Even if his body didn’t work like it used to yet, Jonghyun didn’t have to worry about getting worse. He was even getting better.

The washer stopped rumbling, and Jonghyun stood up straight.

“Off,” he said.

Minki hopped to the ground, only to gently pull Jonghyun back. “I’ll do it."

Jonghyun would’ve argued, but well, Minki was right. Carrying the basket to the laundry room hadn’t gone as easily as he’d imagined.

He took a seat in a cheap chair they kept in the corner. It normally had a stack of clothes on it, but it seemed they’d gotten to this room when cleaning too.

“Are you listening to your doctors?” Minki asked. “Or is it that bad?”

Years ago, Jonghyun had gotten injured and pushed it and pushed it and pushed it until he couldn’t ignore it anymore. Then he’d gone to the doctor, and unsurprisingly, he’d made it much worse than it would’ve been otherwise.

“Both,” Jonghyun admitted. “But it’s okay.”

“Are you taking your meds?”

Jonghyun nodded, watching as Minki lifted his wet sheets to the dryer. Even the painkillers weren’t meant to totally take away the discomfort. Part of Jonghyun was glad. He knew himself. If there was no pain, he’d push too far, too fast. This way he remembered why he needed to rest.

That didn’t make it easy, though. “I’m sorry. That you need to help me. And just, for everything.”

“Don’t be.”

But that wasn’t how it worked.

“We’re supposed to all come back now, and instead I’m like this.” Jonghyun didn't have to explain past that, not while Minki was doing his laundry because he couldn’t. Not when Jonghyun had ended up in the laundry room in the first place.

“Just focus on getting better,” Minki said. “Nothing else.”

“But—”

“We researched it, you know. A lot recently. Took us forever to find anything about real Hanahaki.”

Jonghyun blinked. Minki had stopped with the laundry, a wet pillowcase still in hand. Jonghyun struggled to catch the plot before it slipped entirely through his fingers.

“The surgery's the same as what they do for like, tumors," Minki said. He blinked a few times, all in a row. Jonghyun never wanted to make anyone cry again. "You can't pretend like nothing happened."

Jonghyun didn’t know what to say. He wasn't trying to pretend about anything, but maybe that was exactly what he was doing when he apologized for not recovering immediately. Minki sighed and tossed the pillowcase into the dryer.

“Have you looked at what people are saying about you?”.

Jonghyun winced. He’d stayed far away from that, despite the notifications flooding in from Instagram and Twitter and news articles popping up on his phone.

“Should I?” he asked. Above all else, Jonghyun feared fans would demand his removal from the group or something like that.

Two years ago, he wouldn’t have imagined anything like that ever happening, but people these days seemed to care about every word they said and every breath they took. Jonghyun had never had a scandal, and he didn’t know what to expect from this.

“Some are bad,” Minki admitted. “You might want to disable comments on your Instagram. But then there’s a bunch of articles about how you’re romantic, like it’s a good thing.” Minki clenched his hands into fists.

“Nothing about Minhyun, right?” If he was also connected to it, everything would get exponentially worse.

Minki shook his head. “They all think you’ve got this hidden side to you. Love at first sight.” He scoffed.

“That’s better than it could’ve been,” Jonghyun said. On one of his longer nights, Jonghyun had looked up Hangeng. He’d done well for himself since leaving Super Junior, signed with the same company they’d worked with briefly as Nu’est M.

“Fair warning, if someone asks you about it, I’ll deck them.” Minki closed the lid to the dryer and set it to run. “And then make Dongho do it too.”

“The company wants me to release a statement. It should help.” Jonghyun had hardly thought about what he’d say in it. He had things to apologize for. Their fans were so excited to see all five of them again, and he’d delayed that even longer. The difficult part was to say all that while lying about everything else.

Not that he wanted to tell the whole truth. Jonghyun had struggled and stood his ground for enough already, just to stay with his members and keep making music together. He wouldn’t be the one to expose the open secret that some idols were gay.

Minki was staring at him. Jonghyun tried to read his gaze.

“It was such a big deal to you before. People finding out, I mean. I keep forgetting you’re different now.”

"Am I?"

Minki shook his head. "You're still you," he admitted. "More than I thought you'd be. But something's different."

Jonghyun knew what he meant. “I don’t think it’s just me,” he said. If they kept chasing what they used to have, they’d lose what they could have now.

For so long, he’d dreaded 2019, dreaded facing Minhyun and having to reap the consequences of bad choices.

Now, he dreaded the long weeks ahead of him, the time he’d spend relearning how to work with his own body, but he also looked forward to regaining his skills and moving forward.

They’d won four awards at music shows without Minhyun, and Minhyun had won over forty without them. It would be fun to break their own record as the group who took the longest to ever win first.

Minki's eyes were red, but Jonghyun didn't comment on them.

“Did you watch the Epilogue?” Minki asked, and it was a sloppy subject change, but Jonghyun took it as an out. He was tired of sad nights.

"I meant to." Jonghyun had forgotten about it, despite seeing the notification that they'd shared it with him earlier.

“They stuck with the five flowers thing. Probably too late to do anything else, but still, that’s the ballsiest thing Pledis has ever done.”

Jonghyun laughed because well, he kinda agreed. He’d somewhat expected them to change it. “Next they’ll have us sing ‘Goodbye Bye.’”

“It’s not a bad idea. You can sit during your rap and everything. Don’t even need to dance.”

“I don’t know about that." Jonghyun’s cheeks ached, and only then did he realize he was grinning like an idiot.

“Hey, if Kim Heechul can do it, you can too.”

“The references? Or the not dancing?" Jonghyun didn't know if he'd ever want to perform a song that risked making him remember everything too clearly, but somehow, it worked as a joke now. One of the many powers of Choi Minki, Jonghyun guessed. He'd learned long ago not to question these things.

"Whatever you want. We'll make it work." Minki’s voice was sincerer than the joke warranted, and the humor bled out.

Jonghyun didn’t mind. “I know we will.”

They had a ways to go, but that was nothing new. And this time there was no immediate deadline, no desperation, no balancing act with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.

“We’ll do ‘Face’ but stay on the chairs,” Minki said.

“We can stand on them.”

Minki tilted his gaze up, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he shook his head. “You’ll fall off,” he said. “And if you don’t, hyung will.”

Jonghyun managed a somber nod. They both laughed, and it was perfect, even though Minki’s eyes were red and Jonghyun was certain his were too. He and Minki were in a laundry room not long before dawn, and Jonghyun was so tired he could sleep for four years, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

He’d waited a long time to get here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter left!! thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments--even the shortest of comments completely makes my day :)
> 
> short sidenote cause this is the last big scene with w1: i hope i wrote them decently in this. I don't actually know them too well, but yeah, i did my best to get their personalities and dynamic at least in the ballpark ^^


	15. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was almost nothing compared to before. Back then, they’d showered together; they’d kissed each other’s cheeks. There was a time it hadn't been uncommon for them to share a bed.
> 
> It was stupid that this small touch held more promise than any of that, but Jonghyun couldn’t imagine complaining.

Minhyun narrowed his eyes at his reflection, and his reflection did it back. Unsurprisingly, that clarified nothing.

It was one of those days where he genuinely couldn’t tell if he looked stupid or if he was overanalyzing. Two months ago, he’d come to terms with how his dancing looked slightly different during old Nu’est choreography—and no surprise there—but now Minhyun couldn’t tell if it was that or if he was straight-up doing it wrong.

“Minhyun, move over,” Minki called.

“Huh?”

Minki had one arm around Jonghyun and the other held his phone aloft for a photo, at an angle that caught Minhyun in the background. Rather than moving off, Minhyun came up behind them, and a smile split across his face. He’d hoped they’d do this soon but hadn’t wanted to initiate it.

“Really?” Minki asked. “What are you—”

“I want to be in our Jonghyun’s-practicing-again photo.”

Jonghyun’s shoulders tightened. Maybe he hadn’t realized what this was.

Or maybe Minhyun was wrong, but Minki’s lack of surprise made it seem like he’d hit the nail on the head. Jonghyun’s lips slowly turned up into a smile, and Minhyun rested a hand on their shoulders.

He shouted for Dongho and Aaron’s attention from right beside Minki’s ear.

“We’re taking a photo?” Dongho asked.

“No, we’re just standing here,” Minhyun said, at the same time Minki grumbled out that he guessed they were.

“Don’t be mean,” Dongho said. He stepped on Minhyun’s foot.

“Hey—”

“Would you stop? My arm hurts,” Minki said. He still had the phone aimed at all of them.

“You could lower it.”

“Do you want us to take this without you?"

“I’m not even doing anything!”

“Guys, be quiet,” Jonghyun said, and if asked, Minhyun would definitely deny how quickly that shut them up. He leaned down further, so he didn’t cover as much of Dongho’s head, and forced Jonghyun and Minki to bear the extra weight.

Jonghyun had done well today. Not exactly like before, but Minhyun bet he’d get there within a couple more weeks. This was far from his first practice with them since the surgery, but it was still somewhat new for him to make it through without extra breaks.

Minki snapped a couple photos. “Like it?” He showed it first to Jonghyun, then flashed it at the rest of them. Minhyun didn’t get a real look, but if Jonghyun gave the okay, it would be fine.

The caption took a few seconds of thought, then Minki posted it.

“Really, hyung?” Minki raised an eyebrow at Aaron. He had his phone out and had probably liked the photo already. Minhyun would do the same later. Jonghyun had been mostly silent on social media for the past two months, even after his disease became old news. It was a big deal for them to post a photo together—especially in a practice room.

“What?” Aaron asked. “I’m showing my love.”

“You come off as desperate,” Dongho said.

“For what?” Aaron’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Friends? At least everyone knows I hang out with mine.”

“Hey,” Jonghyun said. He pouted, just a little. “Leave me and my one friend alone.”

“One friend?” Minki echoed. “Do we not count?”

Jonghyun held out both hands and waved them as he shook with laughter. He knew as well as they did that none of them believed that, and Minhyun had to laugh at his over-the-top attempt to take it back.

“Now we know why hyung’s desperate,” Minhyun said. “We’re actually not friends.”

“Why would we be?” Minki asked, and he’d been a bit of a thorn in Minhyun’s side recently, but Minhyun was glad he was here and that they were all together. "Don't worry, hyung. You're my favorite coworker."

“Whatever,” Aaron said. “I’m going to get lunch.” They’d brought boxed lunches with them, figuring they’d eat as a break, then get back to work. Originally, they had stopped for that; they’d just gotten distracted.

As usual, food trumped any bickering, and Dongho followed him out. Minhyun went to follow, then caught sight of Jonghyun, who was still frozen.

He blinked a few extra times, then noticed Minhyun’s eyes on him. Jonghyun raised an eyebrow, but Minhyun didn’t say anything.

“Don’t be weird,” Jonghyun said. He pushed Minhyun lightly, his fingertips against the middle of Minhyun’s chest, not even enough to make him take a step back but enough for Minhyun’s heart to skip a beat.

Right. That had been happening for a while now. He’d first thought it was because their relationship was improving, and he was searching for normal again, but then it hadn’t gone away.

Minhyun had thought about that a lot recently.

“That’s basically asking him to not exist,” Minki said. Minhyun hadn’t realized he was still in the room.

“You’re one to talk,” he said. Minki didn’t answer, and the tell-tale sound of the door opening and closing signaled his departure.

“Are you planning on going to eat?” Jonghyun asked. “Or are you just gonna stand there?”

Minhyun looked behind him. Right. They had somewhere to go. “Maybe they’ll bring ours?”

Jonghyun scoffed. “Fat chance of that.”

Dongho opened the door, lunch box in hand. Minhyun’s mouth watered, even though he couldn’t smell or see any of the food.

“Is there a reason you two decided to starve?” Dongho asked.

“We’re not,” Jonghyun said. “C’mon.” Minhyun followed him.

The trip to where they’d left their stuff took only a couple of minutes. Their arms brushed together as they walked.

“You are moving slow,” Jonghyun said. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Kimchi pancakes are the only thing I’ve thought about for the past hour,” Minhyun said. His heart still hadn’t quieted.

He’d never paid so much attention to Jonghyun before, not like the past couple months. It was supposed to be so Minhyun could help him recover, but Jonghyun had long since reached a point where he didn’t need such constant attention.

That hadn’t stopped Minhyun, until eventually he asked himself whether there was something more to it.

Jonghyun laughed. “You sure about that? You were watching yourself pretty intensely.”

Minhyun had always been bad at accepting failure, preferring to work harder and harder and harder as he chased success. The last thing any of them needed was for him to pursue Jonghyun in a wrongful attempt to set things right.

But Minhyun liked to think he knew himself well, and he couldn’t accept that his feelings stemmed from that. Which was terrifying. He’d meant for them to fade, but Jonghyun had worked so hard and somehow continued being kind and selfless and everything that Minhyun lost whenever something frustrated him.

“Watching myself waste away,” Minhyun said. “I’m excited for lunch.”

“You know you’re doing well though, right?” Jonghyun asked, and he really was something else, wasn’t he? Minhyun had never met anyone else like him.

Every time Minhyun feared Jonghyun had run out of strength, he always seemed to stretch another centimeter. Even at the worst of his recovery, when even Minhyun experienced silent, repressed questions about what they’d do if Jonghyun never reached where he used to be, Jonghyun had never once blamed Minhyun for anything.

“I’m working on it,” Minhyun said. “It’s stupid how much I’ve forgotten.” Minhyun had picked up the new choreographies quickly enough and remembered their old title tracks, but now they’d moved onto songs they'd performed less frequently, and Minhyun only recalled half the words, let alone the choreography.

“Don’t act like it’s just you,” Jonghyun said. “None of us remember them that good.”

That was true, and Minhyun had relearned them about as well as the others. “You’re doing well too,” he said.

Jonghyun smiled. “Yeah?”

Minhyun nudged him. “Don’t push for compliments. Bet Minki told you the same thing.”

“He did,” Jonghyun admitted. “That’s why he wanted to take the picture.”

“I’m glad we did that,” Minhyun said. “It was overdue, you know?”

Jonghyun didn't answer, brow furrowed, and Minhyun’s heart sank.

“If you even think of apologizing, I’ll eat your lunch.”

Jonghyun fake-gasped, and they both laughed.

“I wasn’t going to.” Jonghyun’s voice was soft, and Minhyun only smiled in response. They’d talked about that before. Jonghyun had been apologetic since they were children, and it was endearing to a fault, but it wasn’t always good for him.

They slipped back into the practice room and joined Minki, Dongho, and Aaron on the ground. Their half-finished lunches made Minhyun’s mouth water.

Aaron set down his chopsticks. “I’m either a dumbass or—”

“You’re a dumbass,” Minki said. “What kind of a starter is that?”

“Or,” Aaron repeated, “I’m just too old for multiple versions of dances.”

“I agree with Minki,” Dongho said. “What’s the difference between this and a remix?”

“That’s a question I don’t have an answer to.”

“Maybe you’re both, hyung,” Jonghyun said. “At least you—no, never mind.”

“What was that?” Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Say it.”

Jonghyun failed to suppress a playful grin. “I was gonna say at least you remembered the lyrics but, uh.” Aaron flipped Jonghyun off.

Minhyun laughed first, and the others joined in.

He took his last bite of rice, then set his chopsticks down and shifted to sit with his legs out in front of him. Even now, moments like these sometimes hit him. Minhyun didn’t know how long it would be until he took them for granted again.

The last time Minhyun had performed with Jonghyun was during Produce 101. The last time all five of them had performed together was even longer ago.

He stole a look to his left, and Jonghyun’s gaze was intent but distant. He was thinking about something.

Maybe the same thing, considering the small, awed smile on his lips.

 

\--

 

NU’EST is the Group That Overcomes all Hardships – 25 April, 2019

By: Song Jieun

 

Nearly a year ago, NU’EST W claimed they wouldn’t fall victim to the seven-year curse, and despite fans’ more recent worries, they were correct! Once again reunited with ex-Wanna One member Hwang Minhyun, NU’EST announced at their concert that they’ve all resigned their contracts with Pledis Entertainment. Previously, it was speculated that they had resigned due to the date of their concert, but the confirmation set fans’ hearts at ease.

It’s no secret by now that NU’EST’s path to success wasn’t easy, but even after reaching unprecedented new heights as the subgroup NU’EST W, they faced more adversities. Leader JR didn’t participate in NU’EST W’s final comeback promotions, and instead went on hiatus after contracting Hanahaki disease. He underwent surgery and has been recovering since late 2018.

Despite speculation that either Minhyun or JR wouldn’t return to the group, all five members participated in their concert. There, JR thanked his fans and members for supporting him during his hiatus. In a similar way, Minhyun thanked LOVES for accepting him back with open arms and said he looks forward to meeting them all in the future.

They didn’t talk much about their past hardships, instead focusing on future plans, like a Japan tour and an upcoming album; however, Ren did say that he believes they’ve proven they can overcome any difficulties they may face in the future. This prompted Baekho to chide him and say that sounds like he’s inviting hardships!

During JR’s solo ‘I Hate You,’ LOVES held special slogans with support for JR. In a tear-jerking moment, Minhyun also spoke about JR, saying he is a great leader and a good friend, but he struggles to take care of himself. Minhyun asked fans to continue supporting and loving JR in the future.

JR ended the concert by saying they look forward to the coming years and seeing how much they can accomplish. He promised they will do their best to continue being a group fans are proud to support!

Comments (16):

#HIKIKOMORI  
 Good for them. Im not their fan but its clear theyve worked hard and deserve success! Fighting!

  #HIKIKOMORI  
    us 2012 group fans have to stick together

 

nuesTTurtle  
 Seungcheol and woozi came to the concert TT i love supportive friends

 

Onibugi-i-choose-u  
 Im so proud of them

  Onibugi-i-choose-u  
    theyve come so far

 

_[show more comments]_

 

\--

 

Jonghyun was still wearing the big sweater he’d filmed in. He’d have to shower once he got in, and maybe he’d sneak in a few episodes of something to unwind.

His fingers stumbled when plugging in the code to their apartment, and he had to start it over. Jonghyun was tired enough that he might not need something to help him transition from work to rest, but it was only a little past ten. If he fell asleep now, he'd likely wake much too early. Maybe he'd hang out with Minki or see if Taeyong was free to play something.

The dorm appeared empty, except for music—Minki’s—blasting from his and Minhyun’s room. Jonghyun wasn’t surprised.

Aaron was probably out with his friends, Dongho with Bumzu and maybe Woozi, and Minki was in his room. Jonghyun couldn’t totally guess where Minhyun had gone—or if he was gone, though Minki was playing music awfully loud if Minhyun was also in there.

He’d joined Dongho in the studio more often, not to mention Minhyun had a crazy number of friends nowadays. It was impossible to keep up with all of them, but he did his best.

Jonghyun went straight to the bathroom for a shower. Product residue from his hair got into his mouth, and he grimaced, but soon enough, the warm water relaxed his muscles.

Today could’ve been worse. Much worse. Of all the things that could’ve happened, an increase in general public interest wasn’t bad at all, even if a misconception that he was secretly romantic caused it. Plus, he’d handled it well, with an unfailing smile. Jonghyun was proud of that.

He wrapped his towel around his waist and returned to his room. The door was open, as per usual, but it seemed he’d left his light on. Jonghyun frowned. Normally, the others would’ve turned that off for him.

Minhyun was seated at his computer, playing Rimworld, of all things.

“I swear if everyone’s dead—”

“Some of them lived.” Minhyun didn’t even jump, still facing the computer. Jonghyun rolled his eyes and dressed, then sat behind him. The side of the screen notified them of three major medical emergencies. Minhyun only had three characters.

Gaming skills aside, he still looked very right in this room. Jonghyun had never really imagined that he’d end up in Minhyun’s room, but they’d thought the change might help him find a fresh start.

Jonghyun couldn’t deny that he’d had fewer nightmares since the move. He’d expected Minki to move with him, but his old room was the biggest so Minki and Minhyun had decided to make it work, at least for now. Jonghyun had some doubts about how successful that would be in the long-term.

Of course, if Minhyun continued spending his free time in Jonghyun’s room, maybe they wouldn’t have an issue.

“You should buy your own games instead of messing with mine."

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You suck,” Jonghyun grumbled. He squinted at the screen when another notification popped up, only for Minhyun to save and exit the game before he could read it.

So Minhyun wasn't in here to play anything. Jonghyun wasn’t surprised.

“How was filming?”

There it was. Minhyun faced him, bare-faced and with eyebags that rivaled Jonghyun’s, a small vertical line in between his brows.

“Good,” Jonghyun said. “You didn’t have to wait here.”

“I barely saw you today,” Minhyun said. “Tell me more about it?”

“We stuck to the script.” Hani had MCed with him again, and maybe one day Jonghyun would be able to speak to her easily off-camera, but it hadn’t been today. She’d told him she was glad he recovered, then followed it up with a joke about how Nu’est should really stop following in EXID’s footsteps. “It was nice to see Dindin hyung again.”

The line was still on Minhyun’s forehead. Jonghyun pretended he didn’t see it but couldn’t take his eyes off Minhyun’s face.

He’d always liked his bare face best. There was something intimate about the small imperfections; in the past, Jonghyun had marveled how he was one of the few people who got to see them.

He was a lot less likely to wax poetic like that now, but he still liked Minhyun’s face.

When Jonghyun didn’t get a response, he laid back on his bed so his lower legs still dangled off it. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep anymore.

The filming hadn't been too strenuous; he’d just been so goddamn nervous for no real reason. Well okay, so it had been his first-time filming for a variety show in what—eight months? It was telling that he couldn’t exactly remember.

Not to mention that a few prods at him had made it into the script: first a question about his recovery, which was all well and good, but then also a couple jokes about how easy it was to fall in love.

Jun Hyunmoo had called him ‘Love at first sight Kim Jonghyun’ and while it was thankfully too long of a nickname to stick, it certainly cemented what the public thought of him. Being so misunderstood made his entire chest ache.

“You’re getting your bed wet.”

Jonghyun had barely rubbed at his hair, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it. “I’m not.”

The floor creaked as Minhyun stood, and Jonghyun opened one eye to watch him. He sat near Jonghyun’s head, and a second later, Minhyun’s fingers threaded through his damp hair.

“You sure about that?” He tugged out a snag.

“Stop it,” Jonghyun grumbled. He opened his other eye and turned his head back and forth until Minhyun moved his hand.

“You should get some rest,” Minhyun said.

“Watch something with me?” Jonghyun asked. He rolled into a sitting position, and their thighs pressed together.

“One episode.”

Jonghyun pulled out his phone. He still had a tab open to a streaming site. “By one you mean at least three, right?” It wasn’t even eleven.

“You’ll be asleep before the second,” Minhyun said. “How long was filming?” Jonghyun got the impression that wasn’t the question he really wanted to ask.

“Few hours.” He shrugged. “It was normal.” Jonghyun laid down on his stomach, chin on one hand and the other holding his phone. Minhyun remained sitting up.

“Did they ask you a lot of questions?” It was vague, but Jonghyun knew what he meant.

“A couple.” When he’d gotten the script, he’d gone to Aaron, who was always Jonghyun's go-to for advice like that. “Hyung was right, though. They dropped it.”

At the end of the day, it was still a controversial topic. Variety shows liked to nudge those, to be slightly edgy, but they’d never go into too much detail about them, especially in a case like Jonghyun’s.

The ‘scandal’ had died down with only a few burn scars. There were some fansites that had closed and some fans who’d avoided him at fansigns, but Pledis was dead set on supporting him through it.

Jonghyun was grateful.

(He also wasn’t stupid. With their old contracts’ deadline and his growing personal popularity, he had had more control within the company than he’d ever had before. Pledis supported him because he was valuable.)

“You’re not even watching,” Minhyun said.

Jonghyun’s phone had finished loading the episode and started playing it. He hadn’t turned the volume up.

“Maybe I am tired,” he said. He laid the phone face down onto the bed and stretched his arms straight out with a loud groan, then sat up beside Minhyun.

“Told you so.” Minhyun crossed his ice-cold foot behind Jonghyun’s and pressed it against his calf. Jonghyun twitched.

“You should get your blood circulation checked sometime. That can’t be normal.”

“Shut up. You’re warm.”

Jonghyun yawned, cutting off his retort. He didn’t bother to say it again afterwards.

“I can leave if you want to sleep.”

“It’s too early. I’d wake up in the middle of the night.”

Minhyun frowned, and Jonghyun regretted his wording. For a while, he’d swung between perpetual unrest that kept him awake past dawn and exhaustion that kept him asleep for most of the day. It had scared his members and rightfully so.

Getting back on a schedule had helped. As soon as he had places to go and activities that took the edge off, he’d started to find a rhythm.

“I’ll go to bed in an hour or so,” Jonghyun said. “It won’t be too late.”

That was enough for Minhyun’s expression to lighten. “You better,” he said. “We’ve got practice in the morning.”

A flash of excitement buzzed through Jonghyun. They were preparing new stages for their album and solos and remixes of old songs. His own anticipation made him smile. It hadn’t been like that a couple months ago.

There’d been moments where he’d failed to complete things that used to be simple warm-ups. There’d been times before that where his physical therapist had to remind him that all improvement, no matter how small, was a step forward.

Sometimes he wondered what the hell he was doing, chasing a career he’d spent the past year doing his best to ruin.

But that never lasted long. If Jonghyun knew anything, it was that he wanted to continue as Nu’est. He’d fought so hard for this. Jonghyun wasn’t letting it go.

“What are you thinking about?” Minhyun asked, and Jonghyun considered brushing it off, but there wasn’t any reason to.

“How much better things have gotten,” Jonghyun said. It was like the end of his hiatus had finally forced everything to become normal again. There were differences, but Jonghyun didn’t mind them. “For you too, yeah?”

Sometimes entire days passed where what had happened didn’t even cross his mind.

“It feels right with you back,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun knew what he meant.

“Finally.” Their next comeback would be their first one as five in three years. That was over a third of their careers.

Three years ago, Jonghyun had begged the world, over and over, just for someone to notice them. Two years ago, the world had. Last year he’d done his damned best to hide a disease from everyone and anyone, and now he was here.

A glance at Minhyun was enough to determine how much they’d done had also struck him.

“We’re going to Japan soon,” Minhyun said. A smile broke onto Jonghyun’s face. They had a mini tour in only a few weeks, not long before their new album would come out. “We should have some free time there. Do you want to go somewhere with me? When we can?”

Jonghyun wasn’t totally sure why Minhyun would ask that now, but there was no reason to not agree. “Sure, it’ll be fun. I miss Japan sometimes.”

They hadn’t had the easiest time there, but they'd called it home for a while. It would be fun and exciting and strange to be back again for a tour under such different circumstances.

“Maybe we can meet up with some people,” Jonghyun said. They hadn’t seen any of their Japanese friends in the past couple years.

Minhyun didn't say anything.

Had Jonghyun misunderstood? He frowned. “Is something—"

“I meant, can I take you out?” Minhyun’s voice was quiet, more serious than Jonghyun had realized the conversation warranted.

“Oh?” Then it hit him. “Oh. Minhyun…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Minhyun said. “We can pretend I never asked.”

Minhyun’s foot was still pressed against Jonghyun’s leg, and he had a feeling Minhyun had forgotten about it. He had done nothing but give Jonghyun space, when asked and without being asked, for the past few months. Jonghyun had done the same for him, though Minhyun’s lingering frustration had faded quickly.

They’d started an accidental cold war between them at one point, where Jonghyun had decided to wait until Minhyun initiated small touches and Minhyun had done the same with him. It had taken Jonghyun breaking down and asking about it, scared he’d never really get his friend back, for them to realize how stupid they’d been. Minhyun had grown clingier since, and Jonghyun fell back into a pattern of complaining and enjoying it.

There hadn’t been any switch that had flipped during that moment, but that was when Jonghyun started to see something other than the past every time he looked at Minhyun.

“You know I don’t love you like that." He wanted Minhyun to be happy. He wanted Minhyun to have the world. Jonghyun couldn’t lie to him.

“I don’t love you either,” Minhyun said.

Jonghyun’s heart dropped, but he didn’t take the time to question that. Minhyun’s gaze was softer than his words suggested, and there was pink on his ears.

Jonghyun wetted his lips before speaking. “Then why—"

“Most people don’t on the first date,” Minhyun said. He nudged Jonghyun, and Jonghyun released a sharp exhale, like he’d been punched. “They say you shouldn’t bring up love ‘till at least the fifth.”

That pulled a smile out of Jonghyun. He pressed his lips together to hide it. “So you’re saying we already made it weird?”

Minhyun laughed, directly in Jonghyun’s ear. “Definitely, but I expected that.”

“Yeah you did. Where’d you get the fifth-date thing? Naver?”

“I did some research.”

“You’re so dumb,” Jonghyun said.

“Is that a yes?”

Was it?

He had a list of reasons to refuse. Jonghyun wasn’t in love with Minhyun; he knew those feelings, and if he was honest, he didn’t want them back now. The idea of falling in love at all was enough to set him on edge.

They had only begun to figure things out, and Jonghyun had only just reached a point in his recovery where he could masquerade as though he was entirely better.

But maybe Minhyun was right. There was no rush, no forcing things to happen. Maybe they could be two people who enjoyed each other’s company and found each other attractive and together would make things way too weird on a date because they were long, long past that awkward get-to-know-you stage.

Jonghyun's heart raced in his chest. Maybe it could be nice. Maybe.

“Are you sure it’s worth it?” Jonghyun asked. “It might be better just to move past all this.” He didn’t want Minhyun to get hurt again.

“It was bad because of other reasons. Not because it was us,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun could tell this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment proposal. “And it’s worth a shot. I’m not asking you to marry me. Just—let’s go out.”

Things still weren’t perfect between them. Sometimes Minhyun’s nagging pushed him past the line of fond exasperation and into annoyance. Sometimes Jonghyun’s perpetual guilt flared up stronger than ever, and Minhyun had called him out for avoiding him during those times more than once.

But if they waited for perfection, then they’d never do anything at all. There’d never been a magical time for Minhyun to transfer back from Wanna One to Nu’est that protected them entirely from negative comments. There'd been no way for Jonghyun to return that would’ve erased his Hanahaki from people’s minds.

“You better not take me somewhere stupid,” Jonghyun said. “Or anywhere too crowded. Maybe like a coffee shop or something.”

Minhyun still had all the qualities that Jonghyun had once loved him for. He still did the stupid, endearing things—like look up a dumb clickbait article just to pull a fact seemingly out of thin air.

Like letting Jonghyun raise any concerns he had, despite being able to predict what Jonghyun would say so well that he’d already prepared an answer.

“No fair, I don’t like coffee.” Minhyun’s smile was infectious, and Jonghyun caught it. He’d always loved the way Minhyun’s smile took over his entire face.

“You know what I mean.”

“Leave it all to me. When have I ever let you down?”

“You’re right,” Jonghyun said softly.

In the past two years, Jonghyun had learned that no matter if three hundred or three million people knew his name, few would ever truly know him. Minhyun had always been one of them, and that was one of the reasons he was so special.

Minhyun’s smile flickered, and Jonghyun almost regretted the serious answer. The feeling faded at the sight of Minhyun’s bright eyes.

“This time, we’ll fall in love together,” Minhyun promised, and there was so much Jonghyun could say to that, the words swirling around in his head.

They didn’t come, not yet, and Jonghyun didn’t force them out. He’d rather wait and do it correctly.

“What happened to not talking about love until the fifth date?” Jonghyun asked instead.

“Don’t believe everything on the internet,” Minhyun said. “The article also told me to ‘go get him, girl,’ so.”

Jonghyun laughed. “Don’t tell me you kept reading after that.”

“Besides,” Minhyun said, and this time he was the one whose tone was a little softer, a little more somber than expected. “When have we ever played things by the book?”

He was right. Maybe at some point they’d tried to keep a roadmap to lead them through everything, but Jonghyun was certain they’d long since burned it.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s try it.” His cheeks ached, and Jonghyun realized he must’ve been smiling for a while.

They had a month until they went to Japan, and then even more time together after that, though with a full album coming out in the summer, it was likely they’d have hardly any substantial free time until the fall.

But that didn’t matter. With their new contracts, they’d work together for at least another seven years.

Somewhere along the way, they’d figure out who they could be together. There wasn’t any rush.

Minhyun was still staring.

“What is it?” Jonghyun asked.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted. “I didn’t think we’d get a second chance.”

There were a lot of things that could’ve meant: the two of them going out together or the five of them being Nu’est, or maybe that they still had careers in the music industry at all. Jonghyun didn’t know which one it was, but that didn’t matter. Minhyun was right. This was their second chance, and they weren’t even living on borrowed time.

“Guess what’s the best thing about that,” Jonghyun said.

“What?” Minhyun asked, and Jonghyun almost expected him to put the dots together himself. When he only tilted his head to the side, such a classic, endearing sign of his confusion, Jonghyun cupped Minhyun’s cheek. Warmth seeped into his palm.

Minhyun’s eyes widened, just enough to let Jonghyun know that was more than he expected. Jonghyun’s thumb ran over his cheek bone. He didn’t try to hide his smile.

This was almost nothing compared to before. Back then, they’d showered together; they’d kissed each other’s cheeks. There was a time where it hadn't been uncommon for them to share a bed.

It was stupid that this small touch held more promise than any of that, but Jonghyun couldn’t imagine complaining.

“What is it?” Minhyun repeated, voice low and almost hoarse, and Jonghyun realized he hadn’t answered. He pulled back and took in Minhyun’s unsure yet hopeful expression, the way he didn’t try to hide how much this mattered to him.

“We’re really good at second chances.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand its finished!! wow!! i hope everyone enjoyed it. I've been planning to end with that line since before i started writing this fic and wow, it made me happy to finally use it!!
> 
> Some endnotes:  
> \- This was a lot of firsts for me—first nuest fic, first long fic with multiple povs, not to mention differences in the structure and writing style from my norm…there are definitely things that could be better (im like...genuinely apologetic over my baekho characterization, this is what i get for writing a long fic so soon after i got into the group) but im also proud of it!!  
> \- but seriously thank you so much everyone!! This is such a weird fic and i never expected so many people to enjoy it. 2hyun talk like 6 times total???? not to mention that this has some major differences from most hanahaki fics. so yeah, thank you!!  
> \- I live on [twitter](https://twitter.com/onlystr84jongup) and just made a curiouscat [here!](https://curiouscat.me/onlystr84jongup) I'd love to make some more friends who are loves or writers, and I love nothing more than yelling about different AUs ^^
> 
> I greatly, greatly appreciate any and all kudos and comments! Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos mean a lot ^^ or feel free to contact me on [tumblr :)](https://onlystraightforjongup.tumblr.com/) Constructive criticism is welcome too! Hanahaki's like miles out of my comfort zone, and I'm a little new to this fandom to be writing for it, but this idea hasn't left me alone for a month, so I decided to let it happen and just do my best!!


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